


For the Alliance!

by SonYamuri



Category: Blizzard - Fandom, World of Warcraft
Genre: But it will have love, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not a romantic tale, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, i'm sorry blizzard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonYamuri/pseuds/SonYamuri
Summary: Flynn Fairwind’s story about how he *and* Kul Tiras joined the Alliance is anything but a love story. However it doesn’t means that there has been no love involved. There was, of course, also betrayal, hurt and perhaps some tears.Meet Captain Fairwind, former pirate, mercenary, now Expedition Master of the Alliance, and his story about him joining to a faction. Developing feelings for Spymaster Mathias Shaw along the way was just coincidence.
Relationships: Fairshaw - Relationship, Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, maybe others - Relationship
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	1. Introduction: Something Different. (Or: Winds of change)

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language so this is in Spanish but I had to keep the ship sailing and I have no beta reader so we go down like men. Please point any mistakes I could fix.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn Fairwind is a mercenary who enjoys his life. 
> 
> "You can't change the Winds" the sailors, and himself, use to say.
> 
> Now he sees at first hand what it truly means and good Tidemother, how he hates it.

**S** omething different was going on in Boralus. Like, there is  **always** something going on in this hellish city , but it was different this time. A strange ship arrived to the harbor, decorated with a combination of colors that he had not seen since he was a child, or at least not after the shocking news that Daelin Proudmoore was murdered and Lady Jaina, his daughter, was to be blamed. He did not know much about families, but it was awful to be betrayed for someone that you cared for, and he  **definitely** knew about that.

Ah yeah, the colors. Well, to be honest, golden is a color that almost every human faction he knows use: the Kultirian, the mages of Dalaran, even the Gilnean. But if he wasn’t wrong, these specific colors, deep blue and that golden lion face, were the ones of “The Alliance”, the new one, conformed by Humans, Dwarves, Elves and others. 

He put his hands inside the pockets of his coat as he hummed an old shanty. Whatever happened, it wasn’t his business since Kul Tiras cut their bonds with that “Alliance” years ago. But even so he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic: when he was a kid and still working for the Ashvane, he saw for the first time the golden lion over the bright blue. The ship was magnificent, he remembered, and the sensation he felt when he saw the soldiers in their silver armors, carrying proudly the Alliance flags and marching down to the harbor… He was so innocent back then, and he imagined himself as captain of a beautiful ship like that one, with brave mercenaries up to fight in his name.

_ Ha. _

Whatever, that was many years ago, and that was the first and last time he saw one of those ships in Kultirian shores, and normally, as almost everything in his life, he would give a fuck about who’s arriving or who’s leaving, but this time it’s different. The ship arrived yesterday and this morning he got a message from old Sir Harbormaster Cyrus, asking for him to come down to his office  **immediately.** In any other occasion he would have surely ignored the message or wouldn’t have bothered in coming so early (he had a fucking, painful hangover) but it wasn’t casualty that that magnificent, rusty Kultirian ship decorated with the Alliance flags arrived and the next day Cyrus is asking the services of the best mercenary in whole Boralus . And hell, Flynn Fairwind was definitely loyal to Cyrus: the old sea wolf knew exactly how much his loyalty worths. In gold. 

Besides, he was curious. He had a strange tingle at the back of his neck that felt almost like the one he felt that day when he left Freehold: that he was fucked, and that interesting things were waiting for him. This time, however, both sensations were even more intense.

When he arrived to Cyrus’s office he sneered at the guards who stared at him with narrowed eyes: he cannot blame them, honestly. However, his shit-eater smile dropped when, once he walked stairs down to face Cyrus, he found Taelia as well. And don’t get him wrong: he really likes Taelia, but the last time that Cyrus sent him on a mission with she, he was almost beheaded, and woke up inside a huge barrel with fishes, half naked, stinking like sour, cheap beer (or that he believed -made himself believe) and hugging a Tortolian.

However, now Cyrus and Taelia stared at him in silence and Flynn walked to them as if he were walking to the gallow.

“Flynn” said Cyrus “Come, I have work for you”

He got closer and took a seat. Cyrus handed him a pint of dark beer. Dark beer. The one that the old wolf keeps locked.

He was now pretty sure that he wasn’t going to like this.

“I’ll be quick” said Cyrus with a sigh. “I need you to go to Tol Dagor and free a special inmate”.

“Tol Dagor” Flynn raised his brows and had to take a long sip of beer. Now he was thankful for that. He felt like a burp was trying to make its way through his throat and he was very tempted to free it over their faces but decided to be serious. This was a business meeting after all. “Not like I even care who is it, but why?”

“I need him out” said Cyrus raising a brow and Flynn scoffed.

“You’re asking me to steal a poor bastard from that rat’s nest. You know my price and you’re not looking for someone else to do this. I means that I’m your best choice. And I’m not planning enter there without even knowing  _ why _ I’m risking my hide”.

Taelia huffed and shook her head while Cyrus let out a hoarse laugh that sounded a bit forced, as if he didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t resist.

“He was unjustly imprisoned. If I’m about to raise more tensions than the ones that already are, I’ll need him out”.

“With ‘tensions’, you mean that Alliance ship out there, isn’t?” he yawned and put his leg over a free chair while he sip again his beer. “They pretty, by the way”.

“I’m paying you for your services, not for you to stick your nose where you’re not called!”

“Easy old man!” said Flynn raising his hand in surrender. “You know I wouldn’t refuse a job from you. ’m just curious”.

“I know, I know” Cyrus sighed and turned down his face, holding the bridge of his nose and dropping down over a chair. Taelia, besides him, grabbed his shoulder. “Is just- there are many things happening at once…”

Cyrus’s voice was strangely deep and dark, so dark that Flynn stopped in middle of another sip to stare at him over the edge of the pint. The Harbormaster’s face changed a bit. He seemed older and weak. It didn’t fit him at all.

Flynn wondered if that “many things at once” meant the rumors that had been whispered not just in Boralus, but in all Kul Tiras. He, just like everyone else, heard about what happened to that huge tree called Teldrassil (rumors said that there were only civils. By the Tidemother’s tits, fucking civils) and also they said that the Alliance was trying to retake the old kingdom of Lordaeron. Cyrus had said (twice, both times being drunk and upset) that the Horde would attack Kul Tiras and they wouldn’t be able to protect themselves from an attack that burned a huge, magical tree. Flynn agreed on that and he wasn’t worried: he could always jump on a boat and sail to the mainland. Maybe live in Booty Bay, a city filled with pirates, goblins and turquoise sea. It sounded like the perfect place where a mercenary could be happy, get drunk and find a fuck friend once in a while.

But this time there was something different, and it was serious. So much that he had to sit straight and stare at Cyrus.

“Cyrus…? What’s going on?”

“You have to see it yourself, lad”

Cyrus handed him his old spyglass, golden with some jewels missing, and somewhat confused Flynn took it and raised up. His shoulder hurt a bit when one of Cyrus’ heavy hands gripped it to guide him out to the harbor. When they were far enough and closer to the sea, he pointed a specific place over the sea. And yes, over there, far away, there were a few ships sailing fast. Flynn opened the spyglass and looked through it: the ships were fast indeed (though couldn’t be compared to the Kultirian ships) and strangely, they didn’t seem to be directed to Boralus or Kul Tiras in general, but they were traveling to Southwest…

Southwest. And the red of the sails was unmistakable.

A sudden salty breeze hit Flynn’s face and moved his hair, but that breeze had a strange sound, like a war horn, and it was a sound that bristled his skin because it brought memories of war, blood, destruction. He didn’t need to ask anything else. 

“So” once Flynn managed to recover from the horrible goosebump that ran along his back after hearing the orcish war horn, he turned around to stare at Cyrus and Taelia. “When I start?”

Winds of change were coming this way, he knew it, and somehow he felt that these winds were going to drag him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any mistakes please let me know ♥


	2. Out Like Flynn (Or: The day the rest of Flynn’s life began)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn can be a blockhead sometimes, but even he knows when the winds of change can shift to winds of war, so he accepts Cyrus's work and gets into Tol Dagor. That's the easy part though.
> 
> Now he gotta get Cyrus's Charge out in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, as I said, not very good writing this kind of long text in English but I'll do my best. Just to keep the ship sailing.
> 
> Since this is in Spanish originally, I may take a bit uploading since I have to translate the text but, I'll work hard for my OTP!

Flynn Fairwind always knew that he would never have a good life. It’s boring! But he had morals and etic. At his strage, twisted way, but he had them.

After talking for hours with Cyrus and Taelia they managed to create a plan and decided to start immediately. While they were talking more Horde ships passed by on their way to Zandalar, but no alarm was sound. In his not-so-humble opinion, Katherine Proudmoore had her head waaaay up his ass if she thought that the Horde would leave them alone

Step one: get inside the jail. Wasn’t hard.

“Are you mad, Fairwind?” said Jim, the fish vendor with who he’d fist-fight thursdays and get drunk with the fridays. “Normally I’d love to have to drag you to the soldiers, but you asking to be denounced…?”

“You owe me” mumbled Flynn. “I can’t explain you yet”

“Does it has something to do with those Alliance dogs that arrived last day?”

Flynn tilted his head and showed him a couple of golden coins that glittered over his palm. The man teared them from his hand, grabbed him from the shirt’s collar and yelled.

“Guards! Guards! He’s here, a thief! I have him!”

⚓

How long it had been? Couple hours, he hoped. Just a couple. He had been in that place already and he had very, very bad memories-

No, he couldn’t think on that right now. He should focus on his skin and the one of his charge. Or at least he was trying to think on that as the guard pushed him hardly inside the cell and closed it.

Huffing, he brushed his coat, fixed the collar of his shirt, the sleeves and sat down over a barrel near the cell’s bars, enough so he could have a clear sight of what was going on on the corridor as well of the man dropped in a corner, dressed with rags; he had reddish hair, an (honestly) elegant moustache and with some hematomas around his body, like in shoulders and arms. His cheek was angry red, hard to say with the gloomy light, but he supposed that the Ashvane’s guards had done something else to him besides this. That, or the poor bastard had tried to resist and it didn’t end well.

He smirked, but remained silent and vigilant.

⚓

“ _Beware, beware… the daughter of the sea… hmm hm, hmmm hm hmm hmmm_ …”

He was bored, being in jail is always boring and it didn’t seem like his charge was about to wake up soon. The unpleasant idea of drag him out was starting to sound attractive every passing second when he heard a rustle and turned around, grinning.

“Hey, look who’s up!” he claimed when the man slowly raised on his feet and looked around.

It was impossible to hold his giggle when the man discovered that he wasn’t alone in that cell and his hands flew to his side -instincts of someone who always carry swords or daggers. 

“I’m relieved you woke up!” Flynn said as he folded his arms”. Having to carry you would have made this job far less appealing”.

As the man tried to decide if he should relax or not, Flynn had the chance to look at him better: he seemed kinda old, but his movements were swift and exact, maybe his wrinkles were just stress, poor sleep and an obvious obsession over his job. Nice moustache, though, nice hair as well, tan skin, body full of scars, green eyes.

_ Handsome _ .

“The name’s Flynn” he said once it was obvious that the man decided not to trust. “And my client in Boralus is paying me a king’s bounty to break you out of here”.

The man raised a brow and that seemed to relax him, if just a bit, but he was still confused. The guards really got him.

“Where are we?” Oh~ his voice was nice.

Flynn grinned. “You, my friend, are incarcerated in Tol Dagor. Used to be a legit prison… ‘til the Ashvane Trading Company bought it. Now it’s Priscilla’s own personal fortress, riddled with scum both sides of the bars”.

“How did you get here?”

“Eh” he made a vague gesture. “Wasn’t hard to bribe my way into this cell. But there’s no time, now we just have to get out” at the other’s sarcastic face, Flynn smiled. “Not to worry. I have a plan!”

The man seemed confused and incredulous, but after looking around for few seconds he seemed to agree with himself that he had no choice and with a tiny, resigned sigh, nodded. 

“Okay” Flynn raised up. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready….”

“All right, here’s the plan: hit me”.

The man blinked and tilted his head, as if he didn’t understand the situation. And didn’t blame him, honestly this was such a stupid plan that he though the moment he said “we have to get out of here”, but based in his experience, those were the kind of plans that always worked.

“Come on, hit me!”

And the man didn’t hit him. He was getting impatient, it would be faster if he simply hit the charge and move on, but he supposed that if the merchancy was damaged, Cyrus would cut the payment.

“Don’t be shy! Give me your best shot!”

Suddenly the man stepped forward and throw him a punch that left him seeing stars and certainly he shouldn’t have enjoyed it that much (he always knew that deep down he could be a bit masochist) but it was perfect.

“ **OUCH! OH YOU BRUTE!** ”

The other’s eyes widened and rushed forward: oh, he was worried. So romantic! However he didn’t give him time to check on him: he turned to face the bars and yelled again.

“ **GUARDS! GUARDS, HELP! OHHHH!** ”

Winking to his charge, he dropped to the ground feigning death, and though it hurt like a bitch, it worked: the sound of quick steps and the sounds of an armor moving got close.

“ **Hey! What’s going on?** ”

The guard opened the door, entered and charged to the man: oh, that was no good. The guard was armed and the prisoner didn’t. So he waited few seconds more, then raised up and used his best trick: he got hold of the guard from his back, wrapped the elbow around the front of the throat and in a quick and sharp movement he turned the heavy head to one side. A crack echoed in the cell and the guard’s body dropped to the ground. Flynn jumped back before he would fall as well.

“Is he dead?” said the man walking slowly closer.

“Who knows” he was being honest: that movement sometimes broke their necks, sometimes just knocked them out. There was no time to investigate that, however. “Come on, let’s go”.

They left the cell: the guards were far from them, in a corner, laughing and getting drunk. In a corner of the hall where they two were there was a trunk and a lever.

“Quickly!” he hissed to the charge as he kneeled before the trunk. “Pull the lever!

“Are you sure?” the man noticed that there was a small announce hanging from the lever. “ATTENTION YOU IDIOTS. DON’T PULL! -Warden Carmine”. He shrugged and pulled it down.

The trunk’s lock was simple. From between his hair he pulled a little iron wire and a couple seconds later after rummage the lock with the wire, he heard a satisfying click.

Meanwhile, the obvious sounds of bars opening up echoed around, but not only on the corridor but in general from all the place. Flynn stood up and with a crazed smile, he put his hands around his mouth as a megaphone and yelled.

“ **Riot boys! Give ‘em hell!** ”

Dozens and dozens of inmates started to walk out from their cells, using what they could find as weapons and charged against the guards, who, even if they were armed, soon realized they were outnumbered,

Flynn stared again inside the trunk, feeling disappointed that they weren’t there. Still, he called his charge -who was, actually, his Crime Partner. 

“I think this is yours” he said. “Take your stuff and let’s pay a visit to the Block Warden. We’ll need his keys”.

The man dressed up fast and Flynn couldn’t help to look at the armor: it was pure leather, and it seemed light but with all that stuff it was impossible that it was comfortable: vials and flasks with strange liquids, little knives and razors- and he whistled lightly noticing the quality. They definitely worth at least a hundred gold coins at the Black Market-. And finally, at both sides of his hips appeared the daggers that, Flynn supposed, were the one he was searched for when they met. Like, five minutes ago. Damn, time pass fast.

“ **NO ONE ESCAPES FROM MY WATCH** ” they heard a voice kinda deep and drunken from deep down the corridor, echoing above the sound of fight. Flynn smirked and stared at the man.

“And that’s our dear Warden Carmine. Let’s go”.

Among the chaos of the fight, inmates running and trying to find a way out and the guards trying to fight off the wave of angry (and certainly crazed if you take in count that they’re fighting heavily armed guards with ropes and broken bottles) inmates, Flynn and his Charge were able to easily pass through them.

  
  


Of course they had to get rid of a couple of inmates and guards that tried to stop them but for Flynn’s not-so-much-surprise, Charge was pretty skilled with his knives and daggers: they barely got close to them, with extraordinary swiftness and practiced light feet he was behind them, knocking them off. That was signal of good moral, or at least in Flynn’s books, though he didn’t know what kind of politically correct person could carry poisons with them.

Oh yes. Flynn definitely knew the strange orange of the firebloom poison.

Ward Carmine was at the end of the hall, guarding a door that, Flynn supposed, was the one they needed to get out. But he didn’t have time to think on something: the Ward spotted them and charged. Flynn managed to avoid him -since he wasn’t armed- but he barely was out of danger, Charge gave a step forward raising his daggers, and only then Flynn noticed that they were soaked and dripping a strange oil. Interesting.

He looked around, searching for, well anything, and he found a… plank. With a nail. Yeah, it’d work.

He hold the plank as a sword and charged against the Ward right in the moment that he kicked his Charge down, who landed over some wooden boxes. Carmine, angered, raised a hand and pointed it his Charge: he had a gun, filled with a strange, shining gunpowder -no, really, it was glittering- but before he could pull the trigger Flynn reached him and with a swift swing, broke the plank against the Ward’s head. Though he didn’t get the result he wanted, at least he was distracted enough so his Charge could get on his feet and slice a deep cut on their enemy’s side: few inches up and definitely would have reached a lung, 

Carmine yelled and stumbled forward: from his belt hanged a ring with keys, but before either of them could grab them, the Ward pulled a grenade from his pocket and activated: it had that strange blue-golden glow that the gunpowder in the gun, and Flynn got a bad feeling. 

“Over my… dead body” said the Warden as he kneeled down and dropped the explosive. 

“What- UFF!”

His Charge -obviously sharp-minded and quicker than him- tackled him and both rolled away, behind a wall. A second later there was an explosion that the whole build trembled and left Flynn stunned and hearing a sharp, high white sound over some seconds.

He saw the man looking at him and moving the lips, standing up and offering a hand. Still somewhat stunned accepted the hand and he was pulled up. A headache slowly started to beat from the right side of his head, but at least now he was able to hear. The half-mutilated and half-burned corpse of the Warden was there, but...

“Dammit” he growled when he was able to speak and kneeled down in front of the corpse: what once was a full game of keys was now just a lot of melted metal. “The keys are ruined. That was some real gunpowder…”

He stood up once more and looked around: in a corner of the hall there were some boxes stained with the same gunpowder. That is. Slowly he reached them and using two fingers touched that strange glittering dust: it was warm.

“What kind of gunpowder is this? Hey, help me gather some of this stuff”.

His Charge seemed stunned and pale as he got closer and used one of his dozens of pockes and tiny bags around his armor as container, which Flynn filled with that gunpowder before closing it and keeping it safe not in his coat, but his underwear (hey hey don’t get him wrong, he has pockets inside his pants, waterproof and shit). If the Ashvane were hiding dust under the carpet, Cyrus should know it.

A siren echoed through the halls and walls and Flynn snarled: he had around 10 minutes before the Kul Tiras Guard arrive and start to killing everyone.

“Do you have another plan?” said Charge, and Flynn growled.

“Not yet, unless you want to jump from a window…”

Charge huffed and sheathed his daggers. 

“If that was the Block Warden, his office should be around, isn’t?

“I suppose…” Flynn turned around and, yes, at the other end of the hall he could see a door, which had a pretty golden plaque. “Over there”.

Charge immediately walked over there, but then he noticed that instead of following him, Flynn ran exactly at the opposite side. He called Flynn with a strange tone: tense and slightly frustrated, as if trying to not sound rude with the one who was breaking him out.

“What now?”

“Just one more thing! Well, two”.

Finally Flynn found another trunk and kneeled down in front of it: once the lid was open he sighed in relief. His two babies were there. He took them and sheathed them down at the sides of his hips.

“Ah, much better. I felt naked without them”.

Though Charge stared him down unsurprised, Flynn noticed that the corners of his lips trembled lightly: so he was someone used to repress smiles. Score for Flynn, oh yeah. 

Wielding his swords made him feel better and safer, so they ran to the office’s door, which luckily was open so they didn’t have to force it, because right now, with that damned siren howling, Flynn wasn’t sure that he could pick any lock right now.

“So, what we doin’ here?” said Flynn as he saw how Charge was opening drawers and dropping the contents of the floor. “I don’t believe he had copies of those keys. If they exist, they are very well guarded between Priscilla’s gigant and washy boob-”

  
  


From inside a specific drawer, Charge retrieved a huge scroll and extended it over the desk. Curious, Flynn got closer to watch and peeked over the man’s shoulders: blueprints. It was easy to notice they were the jail’s blueprints and only then he remembered.

“Sewers” they said at the same time, but only Flynn kept talking. “I know where they are, the way there is never guarded”.

“Let’s go then”.

Charge went ahead and Flynn allowed it, wondering if he knew where he was going.

The corridors were still swarming with inmates who ignored them in order to run away (or bandalazing the walls and cells) but as they kept walking there were less and less of them: Flynn didn’t doub they were trying to bring the main door down, knowing that the keys had been destroyed and that that door was built to resist even a rampage of catapults.

As they got further and down in the stairs the place felt colder, quieter and dampt, and though could feel cold sweat over his brow and down his back, Charge was fresher than a fucking piece of ice even if you remember that he was beated, manhandled and thrown away in a cold, dark and unknown place.

“Not you first time, huh?” the sudden sound startled Charge, who turned a bit to stare at Flynn, though he didn’t stop. “This, I mean, waking up with your body aching, in a strange place and some strange dude waiting for you”.

“I do not understand what you are saying” Charge didn’t bother in rolling his eyes but turned his face again to the path: there was a huge puddle of water. They should be close, then.

“You do, at least enough to deny it” said with a shit-eater grin. Charge stopped few seconds, stared at him and he seemed to conclude that a reply wasn’t worth, since he said nothing and walked forward. And Flynn was okay with that, he had patience for some things, and, personally, getting reaction from these kind of stone men was always amusing. 

Shame that this would be the last time they met. 

They arrived to a chamber that was flowed with stinky water, so stinky that Flynn had to use all his practice of no spitting and swallowing to hold back a gag: it was a mix of dampness, animals and sewage. 

Charge, besides him, was covering his nose with a piece of fabric and walked few steps forward: the water reached to his knees, and though the water was greenish and had some stuff floating around, luckily nothing seemed to be… any human waste. The door that lead to the sewers was, of course, to the other side of the puddle. 

“I think I forgot the keys in my other coat” mumbled Flynn, his mouth moving before his brain could process the situation, but then Charged got closer to the door and he sighed. 

“Hey Charge! What you doin’?”

“You gathered some of that gunpowder, isn’t?” said Charge as he lowered his head a bit to check on the lock. “We can blow up the lock”.

Flynn blinked. “That- that’s actually a good idea” he said to himself as he took off his coat and left it over a box: no fucking way he was going to swim through that stinky water and ruin his precious coat. Once he finished he grabbed the leather pouch and walked to the man.

Charge was already waiting for him, and stepped aside pointing to a specific place between the wall and the door instead the lock. Flynn raised bot brows.

“What? Do you want me to put this there instead the lock?”

“I know what I’m doing. The door will explode backwards whole, not in pieces, and also it will push aways whatever could be waiting for us on the other side.

It didn’t make sense for him, but Flynn complied nonetheless. He sprinkled some of the gunpowder over that point and walked two steps back to hit his both cutlasses together as a test, smirking when he saw the familiar sparks. Ready now, he got closer to the door again but growled when Charge got close as well and used his shoulder to push him back.

“Listen lad, I’m being paid for getting you out of here in one piece, and I won’t allow my Customer to bargain with me because you’re missing a tooth, or a hand or something”.

He felt more than see that Charge rolled his eyes but still walked away. Good, good. Flynn grinned but turned his focus again to the door and gave a hard hit to his weapons; the sparks fell over the gunpowder. 

Thinking back, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He saw firsthand the explosion of that shit, he saw what happened to the poor bastard that used it on himself and saw what exactly the gunpowder was able to do. So, he didn’t know what he could hope for standing just a couple steps back. The point is, the explosion was so hard that, as Charge said, he door was blasted backwards but the man and himself as well, landing some fts. away, landing over some boxes. 

The dirty water splashed around, soaking not only them but everything around the hall. The boxes where they landed as well, of course, and they broke due to their weight, and well, they didn’t have anything inside, were empty… but were the boxes where Flynn left is coat. Which, by the way, was stained, soaked and stinky. 

When Flynn managed to push Charge to one side, he stared with sadness the state of his coat, but several seconds later and thinking that it was ruined now anyway, he stood up, put it on and adjusted it around his waist: he was going to use it with dignity in his last job. When he stared downwards, noticed that Charge was staring him back, frowning and making a funny face. Had he knew him better he’d have thought that it was a face of pity, but since he had knew him since around one hour ago, decided to put that aside and instead offered his hand to help him up. Charge looked at him to his eyes and for some seconds they stayed that way, blue eyes against green ones, and Charge finally took his hand firmly and Flynn pulled up to help him up. 

”Come on” said Flynn, his chin up.

When they approached to the corridor, open now, discovered that the door was blasted exactly on the direction that Charge said, but also it landed over the head of a bloody big crocolisk that was now lying dead, his head smashed and brains dripping down the water. Flynn frowned and twisted hi nose, but followed Charge as he walked ahead. From one of his several pockets and tiny bags, Charge produced a sphere, which he squeezed between his fingers and it started to faintly glow with blueish light. Noticing his surprise, Charge shrugged and made a signal to keep going.

“Cold light” he said as if one should always carry one of those things. “Perfect for these kind of situations”. 

_‘These kind of situations’_ said the man. What did this man do, is this not the first- no, what a fool. For a man carrying _firebloom poison_ with him, slithering through the sewers of a jail was not a first, nor a last.

“Good idea, that thing of the door, by the way” said Flynn as he avoided the dead crocolisk. “This poor bastard would have surely jumped over us”.

Charge smiled -well, actually it was a faint smirk BUT STILL- and nodded a bit, but then a sound echoed through the halls and directly through the sewers: a explosion made the walls temble and soon gunshots could be heard everywhere.

“Cavalry’s here” said Flynn walking faster. “We gotta run”.

This time it was Flynn who went ahead as they ran, since Charge’s light was enought to illuminate the path. However, he stopped when a wall appeared in front of him.

“Eh… I guess is not over here. Come on” he turned around so fast that almost collided against Charge’s chest, who moved in a blink to avoid it. 

“I think we better follow my way” said Charge raising a brow and turned around to walk straight ahead, avoiding easily strange solid things hanging from the “roof” of the huge pipeline where they were actually walking. Flynn wasn’t so lucky though, and something stinky, lumpy and pasy landed on his head. 

He just closed his eyes, took a deep breath and swatted it away. 

“Smells worse than a sailor’s boot, for the Tidemother’s tits” grumbled with marked Kultirian accent, which made Charge look over his shoulder straight to him and- my, my, was he trying -not- to smirk? Ha, Fairwind scores again.

They walked through the long pipeline, though the deeper they went, the darker it was, a darkness so heavy that not even Charge’s little light could illuminate enough. He could only heard their steps, their breaths and the water dripping from somewhere.

An almost imperceptible salty breeze moved some wild strands of his hair and Flynn turned immediately on that direction. Charge noticed Flynn’s reaction, turned that way and grumped.

“I think it’s over there” said Charge, though neither of them moved: it was definitely darker there, so fucking dark. But the breeze could be felt if you paid enough attention. 

Now, we must clarify that the only reason why Flynn survived in one piece until now is because most of his stupid plans work. He is good at improvising. And you can only be good at improvising when your rational part turns off and leaves way to the rest of your senses and automatic actions. 

For example. Right now, his rational part is telling him that taking the corridor that could lead them to freedom was a bad, bad idea. Certainly they should look for an alternate exit (because all sewers have several exits) but his impulsive part yelled “fuck, no” and the only way to make sure what was waiting for them inside that corridor was walking through it, because we all know that bad things can happen amongst the darkness and shadows. 

So this is why, in less than five seconds it took him to make a decision, he grabbed Charge’s light sphere and threw it through the corridor, lighting the path. Soon the little light collided against a wall, so they noticed that the corridor was not that long; it had a turn to the left, and there was something hanging from the roof that was slightly rocking: wind. The exit was near. 

But. The path that the light showed them was infested with -rats-. Horrible rats most surely bigger than bloody fat cats. And they had been bothered by the light, and they seemed quite angry since now they were running to them.

Flynn couldn’t help it and let out a shriek, maybe too high pitched for a grown man but Charge, as an all-mighty hero, stepped forward: one of his daggers was now on fire.

_Nope, don’t ask, Flynn_ , Flynn thought to himself. Easier just going with it. 

Charge walked two steps forward, waving his dagger and setting the most daring rats in fire. They shrieked and ran away trying to turn the fire off. Some rats shrieked as well and tried to get as far as possible from the fire and them. But also there were some of them that charged against their legs even though Charge was waving his fire-dagger and they ended up decapitated. Emboldened by this, Flynn unsheathed his cutlasses and waved them, clearing a path for them but only trying to scare the rats instead of wasting time killing one by one.

“Bloody pieces of- Ah! Something! Something touched my leg!” Flynn waved his cutlasses and raised said leg, but there was nothing. He relaxed. “Wait, wait, no, it was just my other leg. We good!”

Charge stared at him with obvious exasperation on his face and with one brow up, but there was certain glint on his eyes… amused? Was he amused? Perhaps.

Flynn allowed Charge to take the front side again, his gaze focusing in that perfectly marked ass due to his leather trousers. It should be illegal that men with this kind of ass wear such clothes! Wait- no no no no this is better. Much better. Thanks to any Deitity that allowed that these clothes were legal and fashionable, otherwise he wouldn’t be looking at this beautiful piece of art that-

He was so distracted that didn’t notice that Charge stopped and collided against his (strong) back. Since he was slightly taller than the man, Flynn only looked over his shoulder: they had reached the end of the sewer; it was dark outside, you could only see the sand, the calm sea, a sky full of stars and two guards with some inmates corpses around. Oh shit! Guards. 

“Hey, you two” yelled one of them. “Stop there!”

Flynn raised his cutlasses: two versus two, sounded like a…

The ground began to shake. Flynn did stagger as well but he managed to hold on from Charge, who seemed like a rock pillar and didn’t even flinch as the whole place shook.

“W-What?” The guard tried to run away, but suddenly an enormous monster that looked like a mix of white basilisk and dinosaur, or *something* slithered from within the sand and with its huge maw tore the Guard in two.

The other man screamed and started to run, but the monster turned around and charged against him. Charge moved quickly and grabbed Flynn by his chest and pulled him back, so both of them could be hidden between the shadows. The monster dragged what was left of the Guards to the hole it made when charged against them, and the tail was still out when the sand already was covering it. Sand!

“The Sand Queen” mumbled Flynn with wonder. He thought she was only a rumor. 

“Maybe that is the reason why there is not much vigilance around here” said Charge as he started to walk. “Only two guards here, most likely they came here on their own, I’d bet that normally no one’s watching here”. 

Once out of the sewers Flynn had some seconds of hard time trying to remember where they were, but he let out a long, satisfied sigh. The smell of salt and sea blocked the pestilence of the sewers emanating from his coat. He felt a painful stab at his chest when he remembered what happened to his coat… but well, at least they were out now. 

“Yeah, I’m officially done with this place” he looked at Charge, who was putting off the fire of his dagger in a small pile of sand. “Let’s go, our transport is waiting for us”.

“Transport?” Charge stood up and sheathed his dagger again. “What transport?”

“Less talking and more walking, come on”.

Both of them hurried to get away from the cells, and behind some huge rocks, near the beach, a beautiful brunette was waiting for them inside a small boat.

“Flynn! Over here!”

“There she is” said Flynn with a heavy sigh and looked at Charge. “Come on, up”.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Flynn” said Taelia as she gave him a tiny smile.

“I know, but, well, you know, the Ashvane are always biting my ass. Besides, I made a new friend!” Flynn grinned and gave a small pat on Charge’s shoulder. “And I found something interesting”.

“Oh?” taelia kneeled down to grab one of the oars. “What is it?”

“I’ll let you know on the way back, we need to go”.

The three of them jumped on the boat and Taelia and Flynn were getting ready to sail away immediately. 

“I cannot believe that Lord Admiral allowed Lady Ashvane to take you” Taelia said to Charge. “But… she must have her reasons”.

Flynn snorted, and he’d swear that Charge did as well, but he remained stoic.

(Deep inside, Flynn believed that Charge was offended because both Taelia and him refused his help and made him sit still).

Finally they began to row to get away from Tol Dagor. Quietly they managed to pass the main entrance of the jail, and even from that distance they saw the Kul Tiran guards trying to put order. When they took a path under a huge, long bridge to hide amongst its shadow for the moment, Taelia spoke.

“What is all that noise” said as she turned to look from the entrance to Flynn. “Sounds like if you started a riot, Flynn”.

“No idea of what you’re talking about” said Flynn to casually that, had not been, well,  _ Flynn,  _ anyone would have believed. Actually, perhaps Taelia did, but Charge snorted. “But I think we found the skeletons on Ashvane’s guardrobe…”

At Taelia’s curious gaze, Flynn signaled the bag attached at his waist. 

“A new gunpowder. Nothing like I have ever seen. OH and rescued the target” with his head he pointed Charge… and now that he remembered, he never asked his name. “Eh… Crime buddy, Taelia, Taelia, Crime buddy”.

“Shaw” snorted Charge. “Mathias Shaw”.

The boat left the shadow of the bridge and out to the open sea: the light of the moon over the water’s surface made it look like if they were sailing over a sea made of silver. It was amazing, Taelia looked over her shoulder to greet Charge- Shaw, but the greet never came. Instead, she frowned and tilted her head.

“Hey, I know you… You arrived with Jaina Proudmoore! You’re the Alliance Emissary!”

Flynn’s eyes widened and turned immediately to stare at the man- Shaw, who seemed uncomfortable with that title. Emissary. Of the Alliance! A- Cyrus said that he was going to rescue a poor bastard, not a bloody Emissary of the Alliance!

“Emissary of the Alliance!” he pouted at Taelia. “Cyrus didn’t say anything about that… I would have charged him double!” he blinked. “Wait- is Jaina back? How did it go?”

“You’re lucky that he’s even paying you something!” Taelia grumbled, but shook her head. “You just rescued an Emissary from Tol Dagor. How do you think it did go? Now keep rowing, we gotta get to Boralus before the sun rises”.

Flynn sighed tiredly, but he released the oar to take his coat off, so he could row faster. 

“You stink” said Taelia has the boat began to sail a bit faster. “What happened?”

“Ah, we had to go out using the sewers” his voice lowered. “The water was awful…”

“Oh, Flynn” she frowned. “There is no way to fix it, isn’t?”

“Nay” he couldn’t help his Kultirian accent. “Unless you have like 200 gold coins and a mage skilled enough to not set it on fire, no, no way to fix it.

“I’m so sorry” she mumbled. “Really”. 

“Don´t be”.

Flynn had that strange feeling that he was being watched, but when he turned around he saw the only person capable of staring at him, Mathias Shaw, with his back laid against a box, head backwards, eyes closed and, at least at first sight, sleeping. He was feeling very tired, but he guessed that not so tired as Shaw, since he was the one who travelled from the mainland only to be beaten, arrested, dragged around and then broke out from prison. He accepted that Shaw could be just a bit more tired. So, he decided to shut up and keep rowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sowy if this seems slow but I swear it'll get better. This is not a love story - though love and smut will INDEED appear.


	3. Shaw, Mathias Shaw (Or: Who actually is the Alliance's Emissary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive to Tradewinds Market. Flynn has a meaningful talk with Cyrus. He faces the Alliance Representatives. And understands who is actually his handsome Charge- Shaw. Mathias Shaw.
> 
> He doesn't wants to be dragged into this mess, but something tells him that anyway, he will be. 
> 
> You can't change the winds, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Kudos :'3. I know this is a long, slow going story but I'll try to make your time worth. I love Flynn Fairwind. And I think that he deserves his own story, not just a love story.
> 
> (But of course there will be smut and love here tho. He's Flynn after all).
> 
> As always, English is not my main language so, any mistake that I could fix please let me know. See ya'll on the FairShaw ship.
> 
> PS: Did you really think that Flynn's longcoat was intact after running in Tol Dagor and going through a sewer fighting pests?

They arrived to Tradewinds Market by dawn. His Charge- _**Alright!**_ Mathias Shaw complained a bit, but relaxed his balls when Taelia told him that no one was going to look for him there, since they would believe he was just another mainland trader. When they left the boat Flynn took his longcoat and stared at it sadly for few seconds before throwing it over some boxes filled with trash and junk. 

_ Oh well.  _

He was always good leaving the past behind him, though to be honest, that coat had been important to him, and it hurt like a bitch leaving it behind. Maybe it was obvious in his face, or the way he held it against his chest tightly for a few seconds.

~~_ (Actually, had he been alone, he would have hugged it). _ ~~

When he turned around he noticed Taelia and Shaw looking at him, so he decided act nonchalant and grinned at them, deciding to forget about this whole matter with a couple of pints of Cyrus’s special reserve.

“Alright, I leave you guys. Gotta report to the old man” he tilted his head to them and headed back to Cyrus’s office.

Taking a bath before reporting to Cyrus’s sounded like a good idea, but seconds later he had a better one: he would just report to him smelling like this. He deserved it for not telling him who was actually going to rescue. 

Due that he was in the Market, the general smell of the air did hid his own pestilence, so he was able to walk normally among the people and traders. Anyone who knew him and walked too close to him and be able to notice the smell wouldn’t say a thing: most likely they assumed that he got drunk in a sly bar -again- and slept in the corner of an old alley -again-. Ah, damnit, it would have been nice to spent his night like that instead of roaming inside a bloody sewer. Perhaps this night he could try it… but taking in count the ache of his shoulders and arms, it wouldn’t be possible.

He walked straight to Cyrus’s office, ignoring the faces and gags of the guards and walked down the stairs with his shit-eater smile. The man in question was behind his desk, most likely filling some reports, when he frowned and looked up searching for the origin of that bad smell. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Flynn, though he was glad for seeing him in one piece.

“I guess my man’s out, isn’t?”

“Oh yes, Taelia took him to a tour around Boralus. Nothing better than a lil’ tour after breaking from jail, right?” he walked to the older one and sit in front of him, ignoring Cyrus’s piercing gaze due to him putting his foot over the edge of the desk. Yes, the old man fucking deserved this. “You know, I’d have liked to know that the poor bastard for which I risked my hide was a  _ bloody Alliance Emissary _ ” and that last part he said it with a little growl as he tilted his head a bit to stare at Cyrus’s. To be honest, he seemed a bit embarrassed.

“Flynn, I couldn’t say that. I wasn’t completely sure…”

Flynn huffed. It was funny how Cyrus could be a huge, intimidating man whose presence was enough to have a brave veteran general shaking on his boots, but when he was discovered by someone in one of his plays, he acted like a lad eating cookies before supper. 

_~~ (Deep inside, Cyrus is like a teddy bear. Deep, deep inside, under his dry, thick skin, huge, heavy hands, his experience in two wars and 300lbs of muscle. Damnit. Cyrus was hot. Flynn sometimes wished to be like him someday). ~~ _

“Alright then, so if you weren’t sure that he is a member of the Alliance-”

“Oh don’t get me wrong lad. I knew he is a member of the Alliance, but I didn’t think he was that important. But I suppose I should have imagined it since he arrived with Jaina…

“Aye, Taelia said that she’s back” he stood up, took his shirt off and slowly walked to the wash room. Honestly, Cyrus’s wash room was his favorite: he had that huge tube made of wood and stone, dozens of bottles and vials with oils, soaps and creams, hot water without the need to heat it on stove and, of course, soft towels made of cotton instead of linen. “Katherine made such a drama, isn’t? Do you know where she was taken?”

By then, Cyrus didn’t even ask why Flynn was inside his wash room, using his products and clothes, and maybe any other would have misunderstood the fact that the mercenary had some emergency clothes in the wash room’s towels wardrobe. In his own opinion, he never needed a family, less a father, but Cyrus was the closest father figure he had ever had, and truth be told, what he had of honesty and rectitude was Cyrus’s influence.

“I have no idea” Cyrus was inside his little kitchen preparing something that already smelt good. Flynn grunted when, throwing his shirt to the trash can, he notice a huge, black bruise over his left rib. “Lady Ashvane could have sent her anywhere and I highly doubt that Lord Admiral knows where. Or that she was interested, in any case”.

“That sucks” Flynn sat down and began to wash his arms, leaving the door half open so he could hear Cyrus and Cyrus could hear him. “More than me, by the way, and that’s not small feat. Do you have any plan in mind?”

“The Alliance will come to look for Jaina” was everything he said, but was enough for Flynn to understand. 

  
  


He washed up quickly ad left the room half dressed. At least he had his shirt on, though open, his trousers as well open _~~(without loincloths because he forgot to bring some to Cyrus’s place. Though it wasn’t the first time he was walking without undercloth, nor would be the last)~~_. A little trail of dark-red fuzz could be seen from his belly button down his belly and it would hide behind the folds of his trousers. That without taking in count his chest hair as well. He was proud of it, by the way. And of course, his long, still soaked and dripping hair leaving a water trail, earning a warning look from Cyrus, who threw at him a towel so he could dry it _~~(actually that was his plan).~~_

“So, you’re going to fraternize with the Alliance” said raising a brow to Cyrus, who was quite busy serving some tea cups. Flynn walked to the table and dropped himself over the chair at the left of the head of the table, Cyrus’s place by default. “Against the orders of Lord Admiral who, I guess, since she sent her own daughter to who knows where and forbade asylum to any member of the Alliance”,

“Katherine Proudmoore can lead all Kul Tiras, but we know that its heart is Boralus, and you as well know that what keeps Boralus up is Tradewinds Market” said Cyrus as he walked to Flynn and put a warm cup of tea in front of him. “And the whole Market is under my authority. Katherine knows that here she doesn’t has power” at Flynn’s incredulous look, Cyrus huffed and sat at the head of the table. “That’s right. She doesn’t have it until she recovers her honor and accepts Jaina back”. 

“I always wondered, why if everyone seems to hate Jaina and see her as traitor, you keep defending her?”

“Do you hate her?”

“No, I don’t, actually” he couldn’t help the nostalgic, twisted smile. “I guess that she had her reasons. Still remember when we played together, before I worked for the Ashvane”.

“Jaina deeply loved Daelin, and Daelin loved her. I must say, Daelin probably loved more Jaina than he loved Katherine”. Flynn was listening as his gaze was lost somewhere on the table. 

_ Beware, beware _

_ The daughter of the sea _

_ The bravest of sailors… _

_ With her magic _

_ And beautiful smile _

_ The tides _

_ She did appease  _

Old memories, but always present. ~~_Specially when it was late at night, he was drunk and the whole city was asleep._~~

“I’m sure that Jaina must have had powerful reasons for what happened” said Cyrus in a long sigh. “And I don’t know if I want to know. Whatever was, will stay between him and Jaina forever. But I’m sure that Daelin wouldn’t approve this, so I'll speak for him”. 

Flynn rolled his eyes to hide the sudden wave of fondness that felt towards Cyrus. Or maybe it was the tea. Whatever, soon they fell in a comfortable silence broken only by the crackling fire and the waves colliding against the dock…

The mercenary was already falling asleep when the sound of Cyrus getting up quickly and rushing to the exit startled him. He heard the sound of armors and weapons getting ready. Then a horn.

He stayed back knowing it was not his place, but deciding that it would get interesting, he gathered his hair in a quick ponytail and followed Cyrus’s path without even caring for his clothes, feeling that his heart was beating fast due to the anticipation.

He was so focused on reaching the exit that didn’t notice that someone was walking down the stairs that lead to the second door of the office (the one that faced the docks and which Cyrus used), so as soon he put a feet on the corridor he collided against someone and his foot interwined, leaving the poor fool between the wall and his own body.

“Flynn, Mathias! Are you okay?”

Flynn blinked, noticing that the poor fool was actually the Alliance Emissary, who returned his gaze with a frown.

“I hope that landing over me doesn’t become a custom, mister Fairwind”.

“It depends on how fine the sight is” of course, his brain wasn’t connected to his mouth but he didn’t care. He pulled away and stared at Taelia. “Something’s going on outside”.

“I noticed” said she as she climbed down the stairs to reach them. “I heard Cyrus’s yells from up there- Flynn, for the love of whatever you consider sacred, could you please be decent?”

Flynn stared down at himself (his disheveled shirt, his open trousers) and grinned. “And deny the world the pleasure of seeing my body? You’re cruel Taelia”. Still he closed his trousers (but left his shirt open, of course) and left the office with Mathias and her.  Outside, in the docks, there was a small troop of soldiers blocking the path to a man of greyish hair accompanied by five or six guards, all of them wearing what it seemed wolf fur around the collar of their armors and tabards whose colors seemed familiar to Flynn.  Though he didn’t recognize the grey-haired man, seconds later he did recognize the emblem of the tabards. And also recognized the ship behind them: blue sails, with a huge, golden lion in them.

“Low your weapons! Don’t you know who is him?” Cyrus’s voice was so powerful that left Flynn’s ears ringing. 

“But-But Sir, Lady Ashvane ordered-”

Flynn had to admire the poor one that dared to try to contradict Cyrus.

“Ashnvane? Do you serve Lady Ashvane?” the face of the Harbormaster deformed in anger. “Is that Lady Ashvane’s crest you wearing on your shield?”

“N-No Sir”.

“No! You serve Kul Tiras! You wear the Proudmoore’s crest! And you take orders from  **me.** ”

All the guards straightened. Even Flynn, who quickly closed his shirt and pulled it under his trousers, as Mathias looked at him with mockery. Flynn ignored him, though that said something about him: if Mathias didn’t flinch under Cyrus’s orders, then who was he taking orders from? A King?

Well if he was the Alliance Emissary…

“Now drop your weapons and let them pass. We shall parley in my office”. 

“Yes sir!”

The guard who had been leading the troop dropped his weapon first.

“Let them through!”

Everyone sheathed their weapons and stepped aside. Cyrus made them a gesture and turned around to return to his office, followed by Flynn, then Mathias, Taelia and the new visitors. 

Once inside the office, Cyrus served tea and made Flynn help him to bring more chairs, though the guards of the grey-haired man didn’t take seat. Couldn’t blame them, tho. Also, said man faced Mathias and smiled.

“Master Shaw” _**Master**_? “Happy to see you in one piece”.

“Likewise” said Mathias tilting his head.

“King Greymane” said Cyrus, causing that both Flynn and Taelia, one in a dark corner and the former besides de Harbormaster, looked at him with surprise. “It’s an honor. You’re free to stay here under my authority. Taelia”.

She stepped forward and saluted.

“Prepare a full briefing for our guests”. 

“Yessir!” Taelia turned around and left the plave immediately, leaving Flynn alone and watching silently. The others seemed to have forgotten his presence, which he was thankful for.

Once the tea was ready, the guests sat around the table and  _ the King _ Greymane offered a hand to Cyrus, who shaked it lightly. 

“Long time no see you, old man” said Greymane in a mumble.

“Pleasure’s mine” said Cyrus, then turned to face Mathias. “And you must be the Alliance Emissary. I’m happy that Flynn and Taelia managed to break you from that tide-damned prison in once piece” Genn raised his brows at the mention of “prison”. “I am Sir Cyrus Crestfall, and in name of the Proudmoore Almiraty, I welcome you”.

“It’s an honor, Mister Crestfall. My name is Mathias Shaw” immediately Mathias took Cyrus’s hand. Genn stepped forward and put a hand over Mathias’s shoulder.

“He’s more than an Alliance Emissary” said Genn with a gentle smile, and to Flynn, Mathias looked at Genn with a embarrassed and bitter glance. “Master Shaw is one of the best spies of the Alliance, leader of the SI:7, which is the intelligence network of the Alliance under the service of King Anduin Wrynn- who we hope you can meet soon, of course.

Flynn couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation since his ears made a high pitched sound, like a white sound but more bothersome.

So he went to Tol Dagor to save not only the Alliance Emissary, but one of their spies, of their army and at the same time leader of an order working for the King of the Alliance. He felt weird. I mean, he accepted the job because Cyrus paid him (to be honest he would have done so if Cyrus just asked, but he liked his gold tho), but for some reason it made him feel strange the fact that he went and saved the butt of someone so important for the Alliance. If they had the custom of “reward the ones who help” he hoped it was just with gold and not inviting him to join them.

He couldn’t bear to give his loyalty to a faction.

Look how Daelin Proudmoore ended for trusting the Alliance. And look what happened to Jaina for trying to ask help for the Alliance.

He didn’t want to be dragged.

~~_ (But something was telling him that, anyway, he would). _ ~~

“-Fairwind. Lad, come here” Flynn startled when Cyrus called his name, and when he looked up he noticed that they had been talking about him judging the way Genn, Cyrus and Mathia looked at him. Of course, he flashed his best shit-eater smile and walked forward, out of the darkness. 

“He was the one who gently offered to broke Mathias from Tol Dagor” the mercenary frowned a bit at Cyrus’s words. What was he doing?

“Flynn Fairwind at your orders, Majesty” his brain registered, five seconds later, that he had made a bow in front of Genn and moved his hand up, a mockery of the Kultirian bows. Damn.

“The Alliance could benefit with the services of someone who managed to break free our Spymaster Shaw from a fortress” said Genn tilting his head. 

Flynn straightened and cleared his throat. How can you reject a King without ending with your head in the sea and the rest of your body as pig’s food? He liked to be alive.

“Ah, yes, you’ll see, I-”

“A local as you could be very convenient in our mission” said Genn. “The Alliance rewards very well to the ones who serve with loyalty”. 

“Oh, bad choice of words, King Greymane” huffed Cyrus but with fondness in his voice. “Flynn is loyal to no one”.

“You hurt my feelings, old man” Flynn took a breath and grinned. “I’m loyal to the gold and myself. No offense, your Majesty”.

“Just Genn is fine” said the King. “And before you make a choice, mister Fairwind, think in our offer. I think those subjects are to be talked later. After all, Jaina’s rescue will need someone with the ability to set free our Spymaster”.

He was offended, but said nothing: he knew when he should shut up -that he didn’t want to was different, but right now it was no moment. He only smiled and bowed his head a bit. Genn returned his attention to Cyrus.

“Katherine Proudmoore rejected us and exiled his own daughter. Why would you help us?”

Cyrus sighed and Flynn returned to his dark corner, but then noticed that Mathias had stared at him this whole time with narrowed eyes. Notice that made him feel something strange in his belly. No lust, but something like that.

“Hm… listen an old man for a minute, aye?”

Genn smirked. Mathias turned from Flynn to Cyrus and Genn. Cyrus smiled and grunted at the time he stood up and walked towards the fire. 

“I was in a battle, many years ago. It was… Second War? Hard to keep track of them. An Orchish Juggernaut hit our ship. Splinters flew everywhere and one of them hit an old friend of mine”. There was silence after all, and Cyrus stared at the fire. Flynn knew that tale very well, though he was surprised: Cyrus never talked about that unless he was completely smashed of beer, to a point where he couldn’t remember what happened the last night. “That should have been his ticket back home but he was a stubborn one. He didn’t want to leave before the war was won. So he patched himself and told the healers he was fine”. He sighed. “Days later he woke up in middle of the night screaming and bathed in sweat. The infection had devoured his insides. My friend never saw another dawn”.

Cyrus turned around again to face his visitors, Genn overall, and returned to the table but didn’t take sit. 

“When he asked for help it was too late. Kul Tiras still bears the scars of the Third War. No one feels that more deeply than Katherine Proudmoore, but she’s lost. Her counselors have blinded her from the infection that has been spreading in our kingdom”.

Flynn frowned. Did he mean the strange change of the Tidesages? Or the mysterious silence in Drustvar? Oh who knows, maybe he was finally facing the corruption of the Ashvane Trade Company after Flynn swore by  _ ten bloody years that there’s nothing more dirty and corrupt that them and tide-damnit Cyrus I know what I’m saying I worked there half my life and I did unmentiable shit to get out of there and there are dozens of innocent kids down there- _

“The land I love is falling apart” Cyrus’s voice dragged him back. “So… I’m asking for your help”. That took them by surprise, both Flynn and the Alliance members there. “Kul Tiras needs the Alliance as much you need us”.

There were few seconds of silence after that, which Cyrus used to sit again. Finally, Genn nodded.

“I see. Then let’s prove Katherine Proudmoore the same truth that I learned at a great cost” Mathias grabbed Genn’s shoulder few seconds before releasing him again. “In unity, there’s strength”. 

  
  
  


⚓

  
  


“Kul Tiras is formed by various Major Houses” Taelia explained the situation over a map of Kul Tiras, with several annotations around it. Flynn was still leaning in a corner, just this time with a pint of Cyrus’s special in hands as he listened. Cyrus asked him to stay and well, after that weakness that the Harbormaster showed it was quite impossible to say no. He wondered if it had been planned. “They were unified under the leadership of Daelin Proudmoore, but that gradually changed after his defeat in Theramore. Right now Lord Admiral Katherine Proudmoore leads on his place, commanding both military force as the guards”.

She handed them some papers with the city’s situation, and Flynn huffed mockingly when their eyes widened in surprise. Taelia seemed to notice as well because she immediately added. “Though our efforts trying to keep the order, Kul Tira has seen increases in crimes, corruption and piracy, overall here, in Tiragarde Sound. People is losing faith in Proudmoore Almiraty”. 

“That’s gonna change soon” said Mathias absently as he read each paper. For some reason, to Flynn, that was hot. Huh, his kinks were kinda weird. 

  
  


“To the West we have Drustvar” said Taelia with a gentle smile. “A mountanous region that provides most of the metals of the Kingdom… and some of our strongest warriors. Waycrest House has been a loyal follower of the Proudmoore by centuries… but their absence in the Council Meetings has arisen some troublesome rumors”.

“In Stormsong Valley, to the North, the Tidesages of the Stormsong House build and bless the ships of our legendary fleet, but no one has heard of the fleet in months! The Tidesages have locked themselves in their temples and they don’t seem very interested in finding the lost ships”.

She looked at each one in the room.

“We have to unite the houses under Proudmoore’s banner and locate the lost fleet. Otherwise, Kul Tiras may fall before this war even begins”. 

They started to whisper their plans and Flynn stopped paying attention. His mind wandered again to the gunpowder of the Ashvane, what a pinch was able to do, and what more of it could do.

“Cyrus” he called. “There’s something I must show ya before ya’ll continue”. 

For some reason Shaw and Genn seemed tense. When Cyrus made a gesture to keep going, Flynn showed him the gunpowder.

“The Ashvane are working in a new weapon”. 

“The Ashvane are -always- making new weapons-”

“Yeah but nothing like this”.

Under Cyrus’s attonished gaze, Flynn took a pinch of the gunpowder, whatever was left between the fingertips of his index and thumb, and put it in his gun. He walked to the other end of the room, aimed to a barrel and shot.

The sound of it was so strong that for few seconds he heard again that high-pitched sound and was pushed backwards, luckily being caught by Mahias. Even the huge Cyrus stumbled back, but he managed to hold from the table avoiding his fall. There were some seconds of silence, which Flynn took advantage to grin up at Mathias. The spy seemed like a stone golem.

“It seems it -will- be a custom” he snickered. “Can’t blame me though. Sight is nice”.

Before Mathias could say something, Flynn pulled away and stared Cyrus straight his eyes. 

“That was just a pinch. Imagine what a weapon of massive destruction could do if its ammo is made with this thing. Ammo for war”.

He felt that behind him Mathias tensed, but he decided to ignore him in favor of staring at Cyrus, wishing, pleading with his gaze to listen to him this time. Cyrus grumbled. 

“Flynn, I have another job for you. You will go with the Alliance people to investigate the Ashvane”:

The mercenary’s eyes wandered between Genn and Mathias, then nodded.

“You know my price. See ya”.

With a long, tired sigh, turned around waving goodbye to Cyrus, who returned the gesture. He walked out the office using the backdoor, but he had barely walked away few steps when he heard someone calling his name. Curious, he turned around again and he found no one else but Mathias Shaw. 

“Master Shaw!” he said with a grin. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Mathias raised a brow with those words and he was almost sure that the spy used all his willpower to not roll his eyes. Interesting.

“I noticed you reaction when Mister Cyrus talked to you about working for the Alliance”. _Damnit_ , thought Flynn. _Was he that evident?_ “You’re really serious about being loyal just to yourself and the money, isn’t?”

“One of my most honest moments, that’s right” Flynn narrowed his eyes. Where was this going?

“I don’t doubt it” Mathias slowly folded his arms. “Though I don’t see what’s the difference between a pirate and you”. 

Well, that was almost offensive. “I could give you a list, but it wouldn’t be so elegant as the one Taelia gave you. But it’s getting late and I have better things to do instead giving you a list of reasons about why the great Harbormaster Sir Cyrus trust me over all the mercenaries in Boralus. Unless you really want to know more of me” he couldn’t help the sly smirk that appeared with these words ( ~~ _unfiltered by his brain, of course_~~ ). “In that case I accept any drink strong enough”. 

Not even a single wrinkle on Mathias’s face moved.

“Had I been interested in knowing something, I would have knew it since a hour ago” his voice was neutral, but something told him that most likely Mathias wanted to growl. “No. I just want to make sure where your loyalty truly lies. Clearly not in Kul Tiras, less in the Alliance of course. Are you really loyal to yourself?”

Flynn frowned and this time he did lose his smile.

“What do you mean?”

  
  


“You will not fight for the Alliance, that’s clear” said the spy. “But, if a Horde comes and gives you a bag full of gold, will you give them information?”

Flynn blinked. Slowly. _Calm down, Flynn. You’re elegant, even if you don’t want to be most of the time._

“And what kind of precious information could have someone like me,  _ Master Shaw _ ?” He said in a fake gentle tone. “I’ll tell you what I think” he folded his arms and walked towards the spy, getting so close that they shared personal space. For a couple seconds he thought that Mathias would step back, but no: he hold his gaze in every moment. “If I don’t mess with others’s business, no one messes with mine. I don’t like to answer to a king or a military life or that kind of bullshit, that’s true, but I don’t play double face, I know how to keep good business, even if that costs my life. That’s part of being a mercenary. Now, do you want my loyalty for your beloved Alliance? Pay me. My swords are always available for the best bidder”. 

That said he turned around and was already several steps away when Mathias called his name once more. When he turned around he was waiting for a strong knuckle breaking his nose or something like that. Instead, he found himself with his face covered by a piece of fabric. For few, crazy seconds, he thought that Mathias was going to kidnap him to make him work for the Alliance or instead, making him disappear (he seemed the kind of man who would know how to hide a body) but then he realized. It was actually a coat. 

Confused, he took the coat out of his head and paralyzed: his coat. It was his bloody coat. No doubt, not after so many years wearing it, it even had the small stitches after fixing it “that” day. Just, now his coat was clean, smelling like soap and lavender, no single stain of what happened in Tol Dagor. Almost new. 

Shocked, he stared at Mathias, not even caring if he looked like a stupid with his open mouth and wide eyes.

“Hope that’s enough payment for you to go tomorrow to a meeting with us in the Wind’s Redemption, first hour at morning” said Mathias. He turned around and walked back to the office, and stopped but didn’t turn when Flynn called him.

“But, the coat, how…?”

Mathias huffed.

“One of the advantages of belonging to the Alliance” he shot a glance to Flynn over his shoulder. “Mages are always happy to help”.

And he left, leaving behind a confused, flustered and frustrated Flynn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend asked me why do I bother on writing this from the start, instead of focusing on their relationship, or begin where at least one of them notices their "stirrings". I told them "well, any good story deserves a good start, isn't? And I think that the love story of a reckless ex pirate and a loyal Spymaster deserves a good tale".
> 
> As always, please tell me of any mistakes!


	4. Flynn Fairwind (Or: Mathias sucks at dealing with mercenaries)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone likes dogs. You give them a piece of bread, a small scratch and they'll follow you until the end of the world. Somehow, the Alliance was like the dogs: you save their Spymaster, and they want to give you a chance. But, just like dogs, you never know if that person who helped you will suddenly turn around and kick you until you die.
> 
> That's why Shaw likes cats. That's why Shaw's job is to be the cat of the Alliance; never trust, never relax, and always be on guard. 
> 
> That's why Mathias sucks at dealing with mercenaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am! Working on the next chapter though. Thank you for the kudos and for giving me a chance :'3 promise it will only get better as we go.
> 
> By the way: oneshot/fic that gets uploaded on the Fairshaw thing, work that will be read by me.

For as long as Mathias Shaw has lived and served the Alliance, he has been forced, due to the need and desperation, to deal with mercenaries; lawless beings with no moral, swearing their loyalty to the best bidder. And in many occasions, when someone paid them more, their loyalties changed and they turned against you. However, precisely many of those mercenaries have important seats within the Alliance, or are honorary members, or even have the trust of King Anduin (like they had the trust of King Varian -may he walk in the glory of the Light). For example, Draenor’s Commander was a mercenary once, long ago, and many of the ones who help to defeat Gul’dan, in their majority actually, were mercenaries, and some others, adventurers.

As long as they were willing to wear Alliance’s banner, even if temporally, he didn’t have any problem dealing with them.

This is why when Genn told him to recruit Flynn Fairwind, he wasn’t amused.

“Find a way to obtain Fairwind’s services” had whispered Genn as the mercenary and Cyrus Crestfall were talking.

“I don’t believe it is a good idea, Sir” said Mathias. “You heard him”.

“We need a local as deft as him” Genn gave him a side glance. “And we haven’t been around enough to earn the trust of anyone else”.

The first step was convincing him to at least have an audience with Halford Wyrmbane, the Commander of this expedition and leader of the 7th Legion, getting him to know a bit more about the Alliance, how they were or at least learn what would be his place in the mission. But how? In those few seconds he remembered the ruined longcoat and he supposed that it was a good way to convince him.

Seeing Flynn’s face when he noticed the coat in good shape remembered Mathias the real reason of why he decided to use that coat as bait, but he ignored that thought. After all, someone who rescued him persuaded by gold didn’t need to know how grateful he felt.

Besides, he really wasn’t good dealing with mercenaries that did not have a single pinch of loyalty.

Those thoughts spined in his head as he absently adjusted the shoulderpads of his suit. 

He did not trust in Flynn Fairwind because he didn't even wear Kul Tiras’s colors… however, he complied Cyrus’s job. 

Maybe, just maybe, Fairwind was one of those mercenaries that were not loyal to a faction or a flag, but a person. Being that, if he could get him to be loyal to Greymane or Wyrmbane… that would be enough. 

Of course, nothing in Mathias’s life was this simple. 

When the Spymaster left his cabin in the Wind’s Redemption, he discovered that the breakfast was fish -which had gotten cold due to the general cold wind of Boralus-, it was raining and the wind was blowing hard, so the ship was slightly waggling. Not so that things were moving around and falling, but enough that it could be felt and causing that anyone with weak stomach would throw up their breakfast. Mathias always had a strong stomach, and though he handled pretty well the cold, the wind and the dizziness caused by the constant waggle of the ship, it didn’t mean that it was easy to deal with Flynn Fairwind. His experience dealing with all kind of pirates, thieves and mercenaries helped a bit, but still he wanted to smash that stupid smile against a table every time the scoundrel stared at him. All this and they met less than two days ago. 

Flynn, to Mathias’s surprise, arrived at time (grudgingly he had to accept that this meant he was serious at least when it came to business). By then he, Genn, Cyrus and Taelia were in Halford’s office, and the Commander at the head of the table, examinating the maps and Mathias’s notes. Mathias was at his right, trying to determine which zone would be the best choice to start investigating, when the door opened: a soldier entered and saluted Halford.

“Commander, a civil insists on talking to Master Shaw” he said standing straight. “He said that is something very important about an activity that he and Master Shaw shared last night, Sir. A sensible one”. 

If the soldier felt uncomfortable delivering such message, he didn’t show it (Mathias felt proud of that) but the Spy had to restrain himself of sighing and palm his forehead. When he talked he definitely ignored Genn’s and Halford’s gaze.

“By any chance, is this civil’s name ‘Flynn Fairwind’?” The soldier nodded. “Of course. Let him through”. 

In the two minutes that passed before Flynn’s arrival, Mathias pointedly ignored everyone, but he knew that Halford would interrogate him later. 

Flynn entered the office, grinning and with hands in his pockets. He looked around the office, gave an impressed whistle at the sight and walked towards the table.

“ ‘must say, this place is fancier than the brothel of the fancypants’s zone”.

“Flynn…” said Cyrus in warning tone.

“What?” Flynn shrugged and dropped on a chair, his shit-eater smile never faltering. His eyes met Mathias’s, who drew a deep breath getting ready for what was coming. And yes: Flynn winked at him and gave a wicked smile. “Hey Master Shaw. Enjoyed your night?”

Mathias then knew that he had to ignore him and decided to look at Halford to warn him that this wasn’t the best idea, but the Commander didn’t look at him. In fact, he had that face that said that, no matter what, he wouldn’t change his mind, so he decided to finish this as soon as possible.

“Flynn Fairwind-”

“ _ Captain _ Flynn Fairwind” said the mercenary. “I may not have a ship, but still I’m one”.

_ Patience, Shaw. You have dealt with worse things. _

“ _ Captain _ Fairwind” he mumbled. “You’ve been summoned to the Wind’s Redemption to negotiate your services in favor of the activities of the Alliance-

“No offense,  _ Master  _ Shaw, but, could you please be less formal? So many fancy words make my head spin a bit and with this weather and this fragile ship wiggling around, trust me, not a good combination. Don’t wanna stain the nice carpets, ya know?”

_ Not my fault that you have the IQ of a retarded Hozen who hit his head and your last neuron is withered. _ Mathias was so tempted to say that, he even had to bit the inside of his cheek, but no. He wasn’t going to lose his seriousness for something like Fairwind.

“That you have such primitive intellect is your problem” what Mathias said instead made Flynn stare at him in shock and fun at the same time. That face made Mathias get a bad feeling. “But we gathered for a serious matter”.

“And I can be pretty serious Master Shaw, is just that, you know, so many fancy things, fine carpets, lavender scent all around…”

“It’s called ‘Clean Smell’, Captain, but I can’t hardly blame you if you’re used to travel in high seas, but I’d appreciate if we focus on the point of this meeting”.

“Good thing that you two get along” said Halford, definitely amused, as he looked between them. “Because you two are going to work together”.

Lucky that Mathias was used to hide his thoughts and feelings, because it wouldn’t be good for him to show his disgust in front of his superiors. Flynn, however, was open-mouthed.

“I’m- I’m sorry, eh, didn’t catch your name, mister…?”

“Commander Halford Wyrmbane”.

“Uh, yeah, look, Commander” said Flynn clearing his throat (Mathias was sure that he used his official title because he found Wyrmbane’s name hard to say). “No offense, is just that, I’m a mercenary, so even if you were allied with Kul Tiras, I’m still a poor bastard who works for money-”

“A hundred gold now, a hundred when the report is on my desk”. 

Mathias got mentally ready for what was to come, especially when he saw Flynn standing up and bowing before Halford.

“Commander, you tell when do I begin”.

Halford smirked, but he got serious few seconds later.

“Right now”.

  
  


⚓

For a factionless mercenary, Mathias was surprised when Flynn agreed to work with just a payment promise and without contract in table. But he refused to listen any plan or proposal without counting each one of the hundred gold coins that Halford gave him within a blue silk purse, which had the Alliance’s logo embroidered, ignoring an exasperated Cyrus, an amused Halford and an interested Genn. 

Once he decided it all was in order and felt satisfied, he gathered his coins again and looked at Halford. 

“Is everything in order, Captain Fairwind?” said Halford, his face serious and voice neutral, but there was an amused glint in his eyes.

“It seems so” said Flynn folding his arms. “So, where do I begin?”

“Do you know something about Drustvar? With its metals and hardened warriors it seems like a good place to begin”.

Mathias straightened on his seat when he noticed that Flynn paled a bit. Since the expirate kept grinning no one noticed the change. But they were not Mathias.

“I know the same that y’all” said Flynn, faking nonchalant. “No one in their right minds go there willingly, ya know? Is a bad, bad place”.

“Have anyone noticed Horde’s activities?” said Halford with a frown.

“Horde?” huffed Flynn. “No, Commander. There are worse things than ‘Horde’ in Drustvar”.

“Do you know those roads?”

Flynn twisted his mouth, noticed Mathias, and his eyes glanced the gold coins inside the silken purse. The Spy felt amused and disgusted by that. It was clear Flynn was trying to avoid Drustvar, but since he got paid, he’d go anyway. Gold moved his life, indeed.

  
  


“I knew them, before Lord and Lady Waycrest went missing. It’s been a long time”. 

“Then, Captain Fairwind, could you tell me what’s worse than the Horde?”

Mathias recognized the irony and mockery in Halford’s voice, and even if he agreed on feeling skeptical, he had to admit this was not the best time to show it. He did not want to work with Fairwind, but the Kultirians didn’t trust them. The decent mercenaries wouldn’t want to help, and those that may help most likely would play double-face. 

He hated to admit it, but Greymane is right: Flynn Fairwind is the best choice, at least for now.

“Commander” said Mathias, hating himself for what he was about to do. “You said that Fairwind-  _ Captain  _ Fairwind” he said immediately before hearing the complains of the other “-and I will work together, isn’t? Then allow me to go with him”.

Halford was surprised. “You sure, Shaw? I was planning that all his reports would be immediately sent to you…”

“With all due respect to your plans, Commander, I agree with you that there are few existing things that can be worse than the Horde, but we must recognize that…  _ Captain  _ Fairwind is a local. I’d like to examine personally whatever he and his fellow countrymen find worse than the Horde”.

Halford hummed and scratched his chin, thinking on Mathias’s words, though few seconds later he nodded.

“Guess you’re right. Go, but return as soon as possible. The Alliance Heroes will arrive soon and I need you to help them recruit troops”.

“Yes, Sir”.

“Go now. Dismissed”.

“Taelia will get you horses so you can travel to Drustvar” said Cyrus at the same time he got up. “Report in my office within an hour, you got this time to get ready”.

Mathias stood up, bowed his head as farewell and left the office, leaving Flynn behind. He returned to his cabin where his things were supposed to be by now- and yes, there they were. His agents brought his things from Jaina’s ship to…

He frowned at that. True: all this mission was to discover where she was taken. She definitely wasn’t in Tol Dagor -by the way, he needed to investigate that place as well. The Ashvane overall. He didn’t know them, but they were most likely those who were in charge of the underworld. Those last words made him stop in middle of his packing. Underworld.

Surely Flynn would know something about them, if his reputation was what he said.

20 minutes later Mathias left his cabin and walked upstairs, where Commander Wyrmbane was waiting for him. Flynn already left, the Commander said, but he’d be waiting in Cyrus’s office.

Mathias put on his cape and hide his face with the hood of it, also to hide the colors of his armor. He should consider on wearing the black armor he used years ago. He knew that dressing all black usually would bring the attention on himself and would be immediately tagged as someone suspicious, he supposed that at least on this market no one would care about that- however they would care if they saw someone wearing the blue and golden colors so characteristic of the Alliance. 

Cyrus’s office was in silence and he noticed Flynn there, drinking from a big pint. He would have immediately stepped in if not because he heard then the faint sound of a private conversation. He would listen, of course, because even if they offered to help, they had no reason to trust in them (they had several bad experiences for trusting someone who offered to help- King Varian’s situation the most recent one), so he just stood near the entrance, listening.

“I don’t like it” that was Fairwind. “I’d go anywhere but, Drustvar?”

“Just a recon mission, Flynn” said Cyrus in a curious fond voice, “You don’t have to stay more than you must”.

“And what are we going to recon, huh? Hungry wolves? Ghosts? Those strange things made of wood and leaves and shit that hunt you down? The witches?”

“Are you afraid, Flynn?” said Taelia.

Then a sudden sound almost startled Mathias: someone dragged a chair and a second later something heavy fell over a something made of wood. Most likely the table.

“Lassie, look at these pretty coins they gave me. For this gold I would spit on Katherine Proudmoore’s face, so obviously I can go to Drustvar. I mean, if that juicy-ass Spy-”

“Flynn!”

“-gets lost over there, I wouldn’t even care! Problem here is that if I fail…”

“Oh. Are you afraid that the Alliance will take retaliation against you?”

“I’m not  **afraid** . It’s just…”

There were several seconds of silence before Cyrus would speak. 

“Lad. Is it so bad working for the Alliance?”

“I do not mind  **working** for them, ya know? Just, I wouldn’t want for them to see me like one of their toy soldiers that can use and replace easily”.

“Don’t be silly, Flynn”. Taelia huffed. “I do not think that the Alliance works that way. Look what they’re doing for Jaina!”

“Oh, come on Taelia! Jaina is ‘not replaceable’. If something happens to me -which I doubt very much, but let’s imagine it- they only have to hire another mercenary. Just like that!”

Mathias frowned at that and for a couple seconds he considered on telling him that, actually, at the Commander’s opinion he counted (by now) as “no replaceable” because he was a “trusted mercenary” that wouldn’t double-face them and up to help them. Though with those words, his vision towards Flynn changed now: he wasn’t up to help them, but, as he said, he was loyal to the gold. That raised red flags in Mathias, deciding to expect a treason from Flynn, and at the same time, he felt… somewhat disappointed. So, he decided that someone like Flynn Fairwind didn’t deserve know the opinion of someone that important like Halford was. He just needed the job done, and that he would make sure.

“Besides, this Azerite stuff” Mathias was about to enter the room when he heard Flynn and stopped. “I’ve seen it over there. Never stopped to, you know, touch it. Thought the Tidesages were playing with their artifacts instead of searching for the lost fleet again, but this… it is literally blood of Azeroth? And they’re doing weapons with that? For war?”

“It seems so. If Halford’s reports and what you gave us are to be believed, yes. Massive weapons made of Azerite”.

“Damn” Flynn huffed. “That’s disgusting. But, uh, is a good idea. I’d have done the same as well if I wanted to burn and destroy everything in a haze of madness”.

“Flynn, that thing that you said about the Azerite” that was Taelia’s voice. “Is very important. Maybe you should notify Commander Wyrmbane. What if the Horde finds it as well and try to mine it?”

“Horde will not sit around” said Cyrus. In Mathias’s not-so-humble opinion, Cyrus and Taelia would be good members of the Alliance. Maybe, as time pass, he could trust them. Besides they seemed reasonable. “If they are traveling to Zuldazar is because they are going to ask help to the Zandalari, and if they get it, definitely they’ll attack Kul Tiras. Even if the Alliance wasn’t here, they would attack us just because we would be a kingdom that would oppose them. Or just because they’d try to get our resources”.

“You don’t  _ have  _ to be loyal to the Alliance” that was Taelia. “At least do this for Kul Tiras, Flynn”.

More silence. Mathias frowned, waiting for Flynn’s reply.

“A’ight. I’ll do it” said Flynn at the end. “But not for Kul Tiras. She has done nothing for me. Maybe some people, among them Cyrus and you, Taelia. If I do this, is because I’m one of the idiots who live here, and I definitely don’t wanna burn”.

Well. That was something he could rely on, thought Mathias. Even if Flynn was loyal to his gold, he was loyal as well to himself. He was interested in saving his own hide, and Mathias could trust in someone like that -until certain level. The fact that someone wanted to save their own hide had advantages and disadvantages: someone like that would tell him if there was a bomb about to explode, however, if he was a coward, said person would run away first before the bomb could explode, without warning anyone about the danger. 

He would test Flynn. Even if his performance in Tol Dagor was… excellent, it was because someone paid him and surely he had time to develop a plan, and with a plan everyone is confident. But in Drustvar, a place where everyone was superstitious, and they didn’t know what could happen… there he would see what kind of mercenary he is. 

He knocked twice the doorframe and stepped inside the office: Taelia, Cyrus and Flynn were sitting around a small table, which was covered with scrolls, tankards and the purse containing Flynn’s payment. At his sight Cyrus cleared his throat, Flynn gathered his purse and Taelia straightened. Mathias almost feels proud: they didn’t trust him either, not even after the words exchanged in the Wind’s Redemption. Good. 

“Fairwind, you ready?”

“Captain Fairwind, Matthy”.

Shaw frowned at that, though after several years of training his face to keep an eternal neutral gesture didn’t show his surprise and confusion at being called that nickname.

“I’d appreciate that you do not call me like that again-”

“Then I am Captain Fairwind!”

Shaw made a great effort to not sigh or roll his eyes. He must be professional. In any case, he took a deep breath by his nose and folded his arms.

“Are you ready, _ Captain _ ?”

Flynn grinned and dusted his coat, straightened the collar, took a rucksack, which was right besides him over a chair and threw a glance over his shoulder to Taelia. 

“I’m out honey, don’t wait for me awake!”

Taelia huffed but still smiled at him.

“Be careful Flynn”.

  
  
  


⚓

  
.  
  


Both left the office in silence, though it seemed like Flynn wanted to talk. A part of Shaw was thankful for the silence, but the other bigger one was bothered by the way he kept twisting his fingers, his hair, how he pulled the straps of his rucksack-

“I can feel you want to ask questions, Captain” said Mathias finally. “I’d prefer not, but I understand that since we are going to a… unknown place, you need to form a bond of trust. I do not promise that I’ll answer everything, but I’ll tell you what I find worthy and safe for you to know”:

“Oh don’t get me wrong, Master Shaw” grinned Flynn. “I’m just curious. Ya gotta have a lot of interesting stories to tell since you work underground, isn’t? Now, if I  _ really  _ wanted to form a ‘bond of trust’ with ya, trust me, we both would be half naked in a dark alley right now”.

It was so hard to not roll his eyes.

“What kind of questions do you have, Captain?” they were walking by the streets of the market on their way to Bridgeport; there a couple of horses would be waiting for them so take them by the Old Drust Road over to a cheery place called “Hangman’s Point”. From there they would walk to Arom’s Stand and Mathias would do a tiny recon walk to gather data of the situation of the zone before returning to Boralus. Simple and easy. Obviously something bad was going to happen. It was a common thing: when you thought that something was so stupidly easy that you could handle it blind-eyed. something would go so abysmally wrong that could transform the situation into something of life or death. His work was to know in which part the plan could go terribly wrong. 

“Not many, I swear it” said Flynn with a smirk. “So, you’re a Spymaster-”

Mathias stopped immediately, the mercenary walked a couple steps more before stopping as well. Shaw was about to punch his nose, but he managed to calm down breathing by his nose and counting until 10.

“I’d appreciate, Captain, that you restrain your tongue and avoid saying that kind of things in public, where someone can hear you. Preferably, don’t even say them”.

“A’ight, a’ight, as you say. So, why did you accept coming with me? Obviously you don’t like me…”

“Is that so obvious?” said Mathias under his breath, not waiting for a reply.

“-and you could have stayed in your nice ship with your buddies. I know you don’t trust me and you wanna see things with your own eyes…”

“You said, Captain Fairwind, that there are worse things that the Horde in Drustvar, isn’t?” When Flynn nodded, he continued. “Though I agree that exist worse things than them, I highly doubt that in Drustvar live Old Gods, corrupted Titans or demons. So I want to know what is that thing that you and the rest of your countrymen consider worse than the Horde. Noting that at least half Boralus already knows what is to fight against them”.

“Witches” said Flynn with a shrug.

Mathias said nothing about that statement since now they arrived to Bridgeport. A couple of black horses were waiting for them, ready for the travel and for carry with them and their ruckpacks. At single sight they were sturdy and strong, horses that surely would bear long travels around beaches or snowed mountains.

For first time in these days, he missed Stormwind. The horses. He didn’t need a strong, sturde horse; he needed one quick and silent to travel as fast as possible.

“Master Shaw” purred Flynn. “You comin’?”

It was then when Shaw noticed that he had stared at the horse, in silence, in a severe way, as Flynn had already made himself comfortable over the other beast, ready to depart. He made a face and without answer jumped over his designed horse.

( ~~_ For some reason, he thought that Flynn looked well riding: both seemed strong, imponent and capable of wear a storm. Not that the mercenary would know that, ever _ ~~ ).

With a grunt he took the reins and shot a glance to Flynn, tilting his head. More than signal, it was Mathias rising his brows and staring at Flynn, a very subtle gesture. But Flynn understood its meaning very well, because he headed first onward. Kinda surprised, Mathias followed. 

He did not trust Flynn Fairwind, and still felt that it wasn’t correct for his superiors to trust on someone like him, whose world moved around himself and the gold, willing to sacrifice his own being for so futile things. Someone stupid that could betray them any moment. But at least for now he showed he was capable to understand the most subtle signals. A very useful trait.

For now, he seemed to take his jobs seriously.

Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any mistakes please let me know!


	5. Old Drust Road (Or: What's going on?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn and Mathias are on their way to Drustvar. Flynn feels proud that Mathias was barely able to find info about him. He has to spíll the beans of his past because he has to: business is business. They share a special moment, and then shit happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this chapter was meant to be larger, but after thinking twice I decided to split it in half. I feel ashamed becase Ten lashes was updated, what, two, three times? And this last chapter made me feel dunno what so I needed fluff.
> 
> Also, that chapter about Mathias trans? Yummy.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, holidays, editing, translating, I really need a beta, if someone's feels up to the task plz tell me :c
> 
> Enjoy!

Flynn always loved sing.

How he wouldn’t? He’s a sailor. What kind of sailor- No no, what kind of  _ Kultirian _ doesn’t love sing? It was in their blood, in their marrow, in their souls. All Kultirian have a great love for the sea, and shanties? They could be sang in any moment. Yeah, they were originally made to raise the productivity of the work and make the sailors work faster and better, but truth be told, one or two shanties relieved your soul and improved your mood.

Especially if you were travelling by the Old Drust Road at turtle’s pace with one of the most boring people in Azeroth: Mathias Shaw. Damnit, he was almost sure that a Tortollan would be more cheerful than this one. 

At least Mathias was cute.

“ _ What do we do with a drunken sailor”  _ Flynn was happily singing. Actually the animals seemed to enjoy his singing, but one: Shaw. He wasn’t surprised, though, poor mainlander didn’t have good taste . “ _ What do we do with a drunken sailor, what do we do with a drunken sailor early in the mornin’! Wey-hey and up she rises, wey-hey and up she rises, wey-hey and up she rises early in the mornin’!” _

“How long have you been pirate?” said Mathias suddenly. That question actually shut Flynn up… just for mere seconds before he chuckled.

“Hey, did you investigate me so soon?”

“I don’t think someone has to investigate you to believe that you were- a pirate- if you aren’t one right now- but yes, I did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have come with you.”

“I’m flattered, Master Shaw”.

Flynn didn’t keep singing because honestly he forgot the lyrics and he was trying to remember them or trying to come up with another shanty, but the spy seemed to misread his silence.

“Did I touch a fragile subject?”

Flynn scoffed but smiled. “If ya really want to know, Master Shaw, I was pirate when I was old enough to take the virginity of a couple of lasses and lose mine with a huge sea bull, but not so to grow a proper beard or whiskers”. He frowned, trying to remember. “And I stopped being one a couple years ago. Almost all my life I’ve been-”

He blinked curiously at the spy’s face, who was rising a brown and even when Shaw usually had a neutral face, at least for now he wasn’t interested in hiding his thoughts: he seemed thoughtful and somewhat surprised. 

“What?”

“You said ‘sea bull’. You didn’t mean that literally, isn’t?”

Flynn laughed at that, so hard that he had to hold strongly at his horse, who whinnied in protest but as the good boy he was simply kept going. The mercenary laughed at the spy’s face for several seconds, who in those moments was considering returning to Boralus. 

“Sorry, sorry” panted Flynn as he held his stomach. “Is just- a bull! I’m sorry” he cleared his throat trying to get serious. “No no, with “bull” I mean a sailor with Cyrus’s complexion, or now that I think about it, maybe a bit smaller. He was ugly though, and kinda smelly, but back then that barely mattered”.

Mathias did keep frowning. For few moments Flynn thought that perhaps this man was one of those who felt grossed out towards people like him...

“We’re talking that back then you were around 14-17 years old, am I right?”

Flynn blinked and nodded. “Yeah, kinda. Why’s that?”

“And I guess that man was older. A grown up adult”.

Ah.

He shrugged and returned his gaze to the road.

“The orphan’s life is not easy, Master Shaw. One is just trying to survive as long as you can and in order to do that sometimes you gotta do things that are not… so pleasant”.

“Sorry if I disturbed you with an uncomfortable subject-”

“Uncomfortable? No no Shaw” Flynn grinned again. “This stuff is a everyday subject when you’re an orphan who doesn’t belongs anywhere”.

“I knew you used to work for the Ashvane, though there are not records of that” Shaw gave him a side glance. “Actually, there are barely records that you exist, Fairwind. If not because we discovered your birth certificate, papers that make you a ship creditor and the fact that I’m talking with you in this moment, I’d believe that you are just a rumor”.

Flynn was grinning, obviously so proud that he was hard to keep track. And hell, sure he had reason to feel proud of know that: Mathias was not questioning him because he was curious, but because he wasn’t able to find info. He didn’t mind telling him all that, though, after all one has to keep the Spymaster informed about his past due to their business relationship.

Besides, in a future, he could bother him with that.

“Well, that’s pretty normal when you’re a child of the wind, you know?”.

“Child of the wind…?”

Flynn nodded. “Yeah. The Children of the Wind are the poor wretches like me: no family, no one to take care of them, not even the orphanage. Just wandering the streets”. Then he made a face. “Anyone whose surname is ‘Fairwind’ is a child of the wind. The Ashvane take advantage of them and recruit them to the mines or the foundry”.

“Recruit?” Mathias looked at him and his frown was so, so deep. He seemed angry. Sexy.

“Yeah, you know… rascals to gather coal, they have to push a mining car around delivering that coal both to the machines and the lamps that light the mines’ insides so the miners doesn’t have excuses to not work their 18 hours in a row”.

“In that simple statement I’ve heard at least five reasons to stop that foundry’s operations and start a full investigation”. 

“Good luck with that” snorted Flynn, turning his attention back to the road. The green of the trees and ground were slowly turning into the usual gray and brown of Drustvar. The blue sky and fluffy with clouds were replaced by heavy and threatening gray, stormy ones. If he forced his memory, there was once a single day where the sun shone in Drustvar, and that day was a fatal one, where blood was spilled. “Lady Priscilla Asvane is a very intimate friend of Lord Admiral Katherine Proudmoore. Most likely she’d throw you head first into the sea with an anvil attached to your tongue before allow you to say a single word against Priscilla. Is impossible”.

“No one has ever said anything about that?”

“That shit about the kiddos is a public secret. You know. everyone know what’s going on but no one wants to talk about that. Taboo. I’ve tried but, huh, I just end sleeping on a stinky pond usually surrounded by pigs and with my groin aching”.

And indeed, Flynn had tried several times, both drunk and sober, to get into the Foundry to at least save the children, but it was strongly guarded not only with trained guards from Boralus but also some mercenaries and assassins hiding between the shadows or riding horses. Several times he was almost catched. 

“You seem to know a lot about them” said Mathias now staring at him.

“Aye, been working for them since I was a little lad, gangs dragged me out. I was lucky that one day a pirate crew arrived to the Foundry and the Captain fancied me. Saw my chance, I offered myself to him and he bought me from Priscilla”.

“And then you started your life as a pirate”.

“Aye”.

After that they remained in a strange silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but neither relaxing. Or maybe he wasn’t able to relax because when the forest became a bit darker and the cold wind whistled by his ears, they found a crooked tree which had hanguing a strange figurine made of wood and leaves. Nothing out of the ordinary (not for Flynn anyway) but it was clear now that they definitely arrived to Drustvar.

“Let’s make a deal” said Mathias suddenly. When Flynn turned to look at him, he continued. “You help us giving us any kind of information you might find useful, even if it is not the one we asked you for, and when we return to Boralus I’ll send an… extra-official operative to investigate that Foundry, so we can rescue the children”. 

Flynn arched his brows and couldn’t help the tiny tug at the corner of his mouth, threatening on becoming a smile. “Do you mean, a kind of exchange, Master Shaw, without any kind of papers or signatures? You?”

“You accepted Commander Wyrmbane’s deal without contracts or signatures. We could easily hit you, steal the gold the Commander’s gave you and leave you tied up in a deep, dark and lonely pit. It wouldn’t be the first time, actually.”

Flynn swallowed at those words and suddenly the wind felt colder. He definitely didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t be the first time.

“However” continued Mathias. “you decided to trust. I do not trust in you, Fairwind, but, since you decided to trust first, and since this is a situation that could be considered… a  _ fair  _ one… I could make an exception”.

Flynn raised a brow. Did Mathias just make a joke? “Ohh~ Spymaster, I feel flattered for you to trust in me” but then he got serious and gave him a sober smile. “But thank you. Those poor brats do not deserve to be there”.

Even though he didn’t smile, the wrinkles in Mathias’s face softened. The spy tilted slightly his head towards Flynn, whose smile grew wider, but it wasn’t one of his usual flirty, silly grins. It was sincere. One from his heart.

  
  


⚓

Even if that strange moment they shared was a bit special -or, as Flynn prefered to call it “an improve in their business relationship”, Flynn was feeling disturbed. They passed by Hangmans’s Point and everything was relatively quiet, and now they took the road to Arom’s Stand. Until now everything was simple and boring, nothing special had happened yet, but there was something amongst the strange forests of Drustvar that made them look… threatening. Maybe the wind, cold due the snowy mountains and howling due to the canyons and crooked trees, or even maybe due to the light wisp of rain, wetting the gray grass and muddy path. Perhaps the lack of light due to the stormy clouds, or the crooked roots that sprouted out of the ground, as if waiting for you to let your guard down so they could twist around your ankle and tug you hardly and-

“Watch out!” Flynn reacted at Mathias’s voice, but it was too late: a  _ huge _ stag was running towards them -towards  _ him _ -, antlers ahead and ready to attack. He tried to avoid it, but the horse was already out of control and Flynn ended on the ground.

He groaned when his back collapsed against the stones and the mud, but his body, reacting by instinct, managed to roll over to the path’s side even though the pain of the fall was pulsating through his whole body. He needed to get away from the stag. By then Mathias had already jumped down from his own horse, which had already fled back to Bridgeport, most likely. 

Flynn managed to get on his feet even though his body was terribly aching and managed to find Mathias at the other side of the road,. And then when he turned to see the beast that had attacked him, he freezed: the animal was viciously attacking the horse that Flynn was riding  _ seconds _ ago. And he wasn’t only attacking the horse with his antlers and hooves, he was also  _ biting _ the poor animal, who was trying to flee, but when the stag hurt his back thigh he fell on the ground and was then when the stag started to trash him, to the point that in matter of seconds what once was a good leg, now it was a kind of bloody pulp. What kind of animal did that? By the tides, the STAG WAS EATING THE HORSE STILL ALIVE!

Luckly Mathias acted first and fast: he threw a dagger at the stag’s head, right on his temple and went through his head. The beast stood still few seconds before collapsing. 

Flynn stood on his place, with wide eyes and panting lightly. Mathias, however, pulled out his dagger from the stag’s head and got closer to the horse to calm him down. Flynn turned around to not watch how he was sacrificed. Of course, turning around didn’t silence the sound of bones being crushed and how something juicy and meaty was spilling to the ground. 

Carefully he got closer so he could see better the state of the poor animal’s leg: it was just pulp of flesh, blood and muscle, the stag’s attack was such that it reached the bone.

“Strange” he heard Mathias say: the spy was kneeling in front of the stag’s head, checking his muzzle. “No rabid signals, but it seemed rabid”.

“Hey, I’ve seen the rabid, and the symptoms are nothing like that” said Flynn as he got closer. “This one seemed… mad of hatred? Yeah, something like that”. When Mathias looked at him with an arched brow, Flynn narrowed his eyes. “Whatever it was, it was not the rabid. If you ignore the fact that the stag was cannibalizing the horse and could have killed us, it looks perfectly normal”.

Mathias stood up at the time he cleaned his dagger using a handkerchief he produced from one of his several pockets. “Help me to move these beasts. We don’t know if this is a merchant road”.

“Oh I can tell you Master Shaw, no road from Drustvar is merchant anymore”.

Flynn had a point, though, since lately the silence from Drustvar had been alarmant and the last time he spied Thaelia and Cyrus’s talk, the deliveries of metal from Drustvar to Boralus were smaller and smaller each time. However, he supposed that Mathias had a point so between the two of them managed to at least move a bit both animals, enough so a caravan could go through. In Mathias’s opinion, if said caravan needed more space, surely enough men would be there so they could move what was left of the animals. Incredibly, Flynn agreed.

Once they finished they checked Flynn’s mini map: if he wasn’t wrong, by feet, they had around one day or one day and a half of traveling to arrive to Arom’s Stand. Damnit. Flynn had more pressing matters back in Boralus, and he would be fucked if he didn’t “change” these bloody winds and he’d be damned if he walked more than one day.

“So… do we need to walk all the way to Arom’s Stand?”

Mathias arched his brow and stared at Flynn. 

“Why do you ask that? That was the plan all along”.

“Yeah but there we will not find much, It’s just a merchant town”.

“We need to do a recon patrol-”

“But why don’t we talk with Cyril White? He’s the Mayor of Fallhaven and that’s way closer and Aroms’s Stand”.

“Would it be useful to talk with him?”

Flynn nodded immediately. “For the ones that knows where to look, aye. Many people don’t know this, but Cyril has been an old friend of the Proudmoore for a long time. I’d say that they have been since Daelin Proudmoore was born!”

Mathias frowned and it was obvious he was trying to not palm his face. “And how’s that, Captain Fairwind, that you did not mention that in the meeting?”

He shrugged and gave the spy a shit-eater grin. “That I can remember, Master Shaw, y’all only asked me if I know there roads. No one ever asked me if I know someone that could be of help”.

_ Now  _ Mathias sighed and he actually massaged his temple. Flynn took that as a victory, more when the spy simply stepped aside and gestured him to lead on.

“Next time, Captain, I’d be grateful if you share any kind of information that you think might be useful or needed for our campaign, either you share it with me or Commander Wyrmbane”.

Flynn made a face. The Commander… he never liked paladins. Well, they were a good fuck as long it was a one-time thing, but after that they were only Light, Redemption, etc, etc. He would never have another lover Paladin. Ever again. 

“I promise to tell you everything I seem worthy” the he frowned. “So, now that we touched the subject, since the Horde is making weapons with this Azerite thing, what is the Alliance doing, then?”

“First of all, we prevent the Horde to make even more weapons with it. Second, we gather it and send it directly to Magni Bronzebeard, the Speaker of Azeroth, to heal our planet”.

Flynn stopped.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Mathias didn’t stop.

“We send it to Silithus so Magni and some selected champions can heal Azeroth”.

“What’s going on with Azeroth?”

“I thought you knew that the Azerite is Azeroth’s blood”.

“... Yes…?”

“When the Legion was expelled from Azeroth, Sargeras managed to bury his sword in Azeroth, landing in Silithus. From there the Azerite sprouted”.

Had he not been with Mathias the whole time, he would have bet his hands on the fire that the spy was drunk. But in these last three days he had seen impossible things so if Azeroth was actually a living thing and could bleed a mineral so powerful that could destroy entire cities, so why the fuck not?

“How do you know all that?” since the question left his lips he knew it was a stupid one. But hey, remember that he never had a filter between his brain and his mouth. Even so, the corner of Mathias’s mouth moved a bit, not enough to be a proper smile but the intention was pretty obvious.

“As I said before: benefits of working for the Alliance”. 

“I think ya’re lying” Mathias arched his brow. “Aye. I’d bet anything that this kind of information is not something that you tell to a simple soldier, and if you’re telling me now is because all of them know already”. 

“I assure you Captain Fairwind, that although we don’t tell them, some soldiers find out and tell the others. Still is public information”. 

“Isn’t that still bad?”

“It depends of how you see it, Captain” suddenly Mathias looked at Flynn, and somehow, for some reason, the ex-pirate felt something hot coiling in his guts. Also, he felt a goosebump, and he was able to contain it, but the spy’s gaze was kinda different now. “My spies know perfectly in who they can trust and in who not”. 

“How?”

“Special training. The body has a very specific language and we know how to identify if someone’s lying, or when they are being honest, or when they’re scared. So, we can detect when someone is trying to manipulate us… or when there’s real…  _ interest. _ ”

The mercenary tilted his head. Something was going on here, he was almost completely sure, but he couldn’t put his finger on  _ what _ , and he was feeling lost. And somehow he felt that the spy knew perfectly what he was doing, knew that Flynn couldn't understand, and he seemed to be enjoying his ignorance. 

And, well, it couldn’t be what Flynn thought, right? No fucking way that Mathias Shaw could be flirting with him. 

“And when the interest is mutual” said Shaw. “Everyone wins.Of course, the only information we’ll share is the one that is planned to be revealed on the coming days. They only get to know it before everyone else”.

“That- that doesn’t make y’all bad spies?”

By then Mathias walked a couple steps forward when Flynn spokle again. Then- then-  _ then _ the older one shoot Flynn a glance over his shoulder, without turning completely around. The mercenary felt that hot thing coiling in his gut sending a shiver directly to his groin.

“That is something extra-official that I allow, so we can know if there’s a filthy traitor among our ranks, and we take care _personally_ of them. And Captain Fairwind, in any case you find amusing to spread the word of anything that I said here… you should know that you don’t have the minimal idea of how **bad** I can be”.

That said, Mathias continued his way. Flynn was left behind, feeling lost, that something had just happened and he  _ didn’t know what the fuck was _ , but also, feeling that a door had been opened to him.

⚓

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted SO HARD to add a hardcore flirting here. Had to contain myself because that happens in few chapters more, not just yet.
> 
> I swear it will worth the wait. Or so I keep telling myself.


	6. Fallhaven (Or: A Pretty Boy).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn and Mathias walk into the woods to find something quite creepy. Mathias is used to that, Flynn no. Flynn is curious to meet Mathias' "Special Agents" and then he finds a pretty boy , who belongs to the 7th Legion (presumably) and takes him out for a walk.
> 
> Sometimes not even him, a seasoned sailor, can feel when the winds of change shift and drag him along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S. O I had a lot of shit going on. Getting a promotion in my job, then COVID, then all my documents were lost and fucking Google. I gathered my wits after I got the notice that OUR SHIP IS OFICCIALLY CANON and you have not the single idea of how I worked like a madman to get this re-writen and translated before the end of July. FAIRSHAW MONTH, DO WE AGREE? THE 7TH OF JULY IS FAIRSHAW DAY!!
> 
> As always, any mistake lemme know, have to translate everything from Spanish and I have no Beta.

More than once, Flynn had to pretend being completely gay. I mean, he in fact likes men and women (he has a good eye for good pieces of meat worthy of your time), but several times he had to pretend to be completely gay, either by convenience, need or to get away from an uncomfortable situation.

But never, ever in his whole life, he had had to pretend to be completely heterosexual… perhaps he’s a bit scared of women.

It’s easier to suspect a man than a woman: it is the Universal Law. However, Women can fake fragility, they can pretend to be as frail and delicate and submissive as they need, so you lower your guard and before you know it they’d be slicing your throat. Yeah, that last bit was his own experience: twice it happened to him, and time on time some female sailors applied that technique. 

This is why the word “witch” gave him goosebumps. Women capable to act tranquil and innocent, and five minutes later you would be on a table, entrails exposed and ready to be used in any strange, horrible ritual.

He told Mathias about all this, who actually did not comment on that, but he could see how Mathias’  excepticism grew.

“And yes” said Flynn at last. “You can say that you fought demons, dragons, Old Gods, blah, blah, but Witches are something else. I mean, all those monsters had a goal, isn’t it? Demons want to see the world burn, dragons want to have power above all, Old Gods want to bring an empire of madness and shadows… but witches? Mate, they are mean just because they want to”.

“Though I completely understand your worry, Fairwind, I can assure you that I am capable to control those situations”.

“I’m not worried about ya, am worried about what can happen to my hide if I ever return and you’re in pieces and am missing one”.

Flynn noticed how Mathias restrained himself to not sigh or roll his eyes, and though that was definitely a small victory, he told himself that this was not time to enjoy that. 

“Nothing has happened since we entered this place. If we ever encounter a Witch, then, Captain Fairwind, we can worry and rest assured I’ll take your advices”.

“Yeah, well, I have never faced a Witch-”

“Then what’s the fuss about? You wouldn’t even recognize a Witch if you had one in front of you”. 

Flynn made a noise and stared at Mathias indignantly, but then cleared his throat and brushed his coat off of dust. 

“I do not need to recognize one to know what we’ll be very fortunate if we never see one” mumbled under his breath.

And deep inside, Flynn hoped that this strange trek through haunted forests and empty towns was smooth as much as possible. But, though his luck was envied by many, he knew that destiny rarely was kind with him.

Sunset was falling over them when they reached a town… abandoned. Flynn couldn’t remember the name, but he knew that they had to go through this town to reach Fallhaven. But last time he was here, this place definitely wasn’t like this. Actually he flirted with a beautiful redhead from the local Inn.

The houses were, mostly, covered in weeds and many of them had their windows upholstered with rotten wooden planks, and some others still had furnitures and personal belongings in there, as if the owners had left the zone in such a hurry that they did not even had time to pack. The pestilence of humidity, rotten wood and animals plagued the zone, but that last bit wasn’t weird: due the forest surrounding the place, surely a couple of beasts made their nests or lairs inside the houses 

“What happened here?” said Shaw. Flynn was moved; Shaw guessed that he knows everything. Sadly, he had an inclination for disappointing people.

“I don’t know” Flynn looked around, trying to find at least something interesting. “It’s been a long time since the last time I was here. It wasn’t like this, though”. 

They walked slowly and took the central road, that led them to the center of the town, to where, Flynn guessed, was the Main Square; it even had a water well and several wicker baskets lied around, rotten some time ago. 

“Whatever happened, it was sudden” Shaw mumbled, but Flynn was close enough to hear. “They were more focused on running, they did not even look back”. 

“The only place they could have run to is Fallhaven” said Flynn. “It’s right around the corner. Surely they know what happened”.

Mathias nodded. However, as they walked the path that Flynn assured would take them directly to the other town, an awful smell reached them, worse than the smell of an animal’s corpse, but pretty close. After checking around, they discovered the remains of what it seemed to be a camp. The ashes of a once decent campfire were cold and moist, obviously it had been like this for a while. However, the things scattered around, like sleeping bags and some backpacks, were not tattered yet by the weather or wild animals. Mathias guessed that these things had been there for at least three days. The red and black marks of the backpacks indicated that they belonged to the Horde.

(Which was alarming enough, because that meant that while they were barely setting in the city, the Horde was already sending informers and spies to Kul Tiras. But he was not the one to blame. After all, the Horde saved the Zandalari Princess, so most likely they were in good terms with the Zandalari Emperor, while he lost a day being incarcerated). 

Trouble was… _where were they?_

Flynn, somehow, had the same thought as Mathias, since he already had his swords unsheathed and was looking around, though covering his nose with the coat’s sleeve since the smell seemed to get stronger. 

Shaw allowed Flynn to be vigil while he opened the backpacks; nothing too important, just some spyglasses, dry food, waterskins and a letter indicating that any Alliance activity should be reported directly to Nathanos Blightcaller. That lapdog. 

On the meantime, Flynn understood why the Horde decided to set camp here: it was a ghost town, definitely avoided by the locals, and it was so quiet that they could easily detect anyone who dared to get close. But they had been, indeed, a bunch of imbeciles: everyone knew that no one would wander into the woods after the sunset. Or at least, both Kultirian and Zandalari knew so. Of course, mainlanders would have not the single idea-

He blinked when he saw Mathias take a sip of one of the waterskins, rinse out his mouth with it and then spill it. What? Why?

“Water’s still fresh” said the spy as he stood up. “And the waterskins are full. The sleeping bags are still packed, all the supplies almost intact” he squinted his eyes. “There was a fire, but it consumed all, no one threw water to extinguish it. Where are they?”

A cold wind blew, moving the trees and causing that they few leaves still attached to the brands fell slowly over them, but also dragged with it more of the awful smell that lingered around.

Then, Flynn had a terrible feeling. 

“I don’t see their weapons here” Mathias kept examining the camp, and then noticed a patron: all the stuff was accommodated, but some of them, like the sleeping bags and some logs that were designated to the campfire, pointed to the woods. As if they had run over there and kicked those things in their hurry.

_ The smell came from over there. _

Without a word Shaw walked into the woods and Flynn groaned. Yeah, of course the fucking spy would search the origin of said smell.

“Oi, mate, not that I want to talk against your oh so sharp instinct, but normal people, or at least the ones who want to live, prefer avoid that path and turn around”.

“Maybe” said Shaw as he followed the smell. “But as you said, normal people. Now, Fairwind, you either stay here and keep vigil or follow me and shut that mouth”. 

He disappeared between a couple of trees and Flynn stood behind, thinking. But when he heard a vicious howl that sounded uncomfortably close, he made his mind and ran to Mathias. 

The spy walked carefully amongst the undergrowth of the woods while Flynn, silently, admired the way he moved without making sound , almost like a ghost (but he wasn’t surprised, though. Somehow he expected that). Soon the simple bushes of dry leaves gave way to completely dry bushes that had sharp thorns on their brands. It is possible that a couple of times Flynn’s hair tangled between said brands, and he thought that somehow the woods were trying to stop him. Shaw, on the meantime, stared at the floor constantly, searching for footprints or broken brands, but the closer they got to the smell, the less clues he found -which was strange, since with the wet floor and mud, there should be at least one footprint, and with the dry, twisted brands of the bushes there had to be at least one or two broken ones lying around. He told Flynn this. 

Flynn frowned. 

“And have you thought that perhaps they never knew what happened?”

Mathias raised a brow and stopped to look at Flynn.

“What do you mean?”

“There are no weapons, then we have to options: either someone took the weapons, or they never left the weapons when they started to set their camp. No signals of where they could have run. What if they never dropped their weapons, but even so they were taken by surprise?”

Mathias squinted his eyes and Flynn almost regrets his words, but then he nodded and signaled him to continue.

“That’s an option, captain Fairwind, though the more we walk without clues, the more it morphs into a chance”. 

After a few minutes they reached a glade, but the smell there was so foul that even Shaw walked back trying to contain his gag (Flynn wasn’t so lucky; he emptied his lunch behind an oak), and though Flynn had certainly smelled worst thing in his life, the  _ vision _ in front of them was what made him reach his limit.

The remains of a goblin, a troll and an orc were in front of them, exposed as any trophy. But they had not been just murdered: someone stripped them from all clothes and armors, and the naked bodies had been impaled in such way that the tip of the wood could be seen appearing from their mouths. Their bellies had been ripped open and the entrails were scattered around, flies and larvaes eating what was left of them, and some kind of runic marks had been engraved in their skins with a sharp instrument. Or perhaps a not-so-sharp instrument because, on a closer look, the cuts were rough, unclean, and they had not been just engraved, but they were so deep, that skin, muscle and grase was dragged with them, reaching the bones. Most of the runes focused in their arms or legs -and chest, in the orc’s case.

When Flynn recovered and gathered what was left of his guts to look again, saw Mathias examining the corpses closely as he covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief: he seemed check something on their faces, and when he tried to poke the troll, its head fell and rolled around.

Shaw kneeled to check the head, he frowned when some herbs scattered from what was left of neck. So, in a closer look, he could see stitching marks around the neck, so whoever or whatever did this to them, cut their heads, filled them with herbs, then stitched them again to the corpses. Oh and the eyelids were stitched as hell and kinda sunken: he was pretty sure that, shall he open them, there would be no eyeballs at all. That thought alone was so gross that Flynn almost feel the urge to puke again, but something distracted him.

“Uh. Shaw?”

Mathias ignored him: from one of the numerous bags hanging from his waist he produced a small S. E. L. F. I. E. device, but unlike the versions Flynn had seen, this was way smaller and practical, ideal to be hidden in belts, tini bags and, without doubt, under gauntlets of dangerous spies. Shaw circled the corpses slowly and he took photographs of the scene. 

“Shaw” said the mercenary, now urgently.

“What is the matter, Captain?” said Mathias without looking up.

“Listen”.

“What? I can’t hear anything” he said with a small growl, but almost immediately he got it: he could not hear anything. 

That was the problem.

No birds singing or flying around, no crickets or cicadas, nor the wind blowing through the branches, and not even the sound of the dry leaves and branches breaking under their steps -and, actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t *feel* the wind, which was definitely strange because seconds before reaching the glade, it was blowing hard, so much that Shaw could still feel his cheeks and nose burning from the cold. But there was something he could hear, and judging Flynn’s face, he noticed as well: he could listen their own quick breaths and their heartbeats.

He could hear Flynn’s heartbeat.

On the meantime, the mercenary looked around: from the brands closer to the floor, all around the trees delimiting the glade, he noticed small efigies and shapes made with leaves, brandes and fur pieces (or that’s what he wanted to believe, because in some of them, said “fur” seemed more like human hair than animal fur). 

“If-If ya’re done, Master Shaw, we better get out of here. Like, right now”.

Mathias was tense, but he had to admit that, at least this time, Flynn was being reasonable. He put away the S. E. L. F. I. E. cam back into the bag from his belt and walked away from the glade with Flynn, who seemed exalted and ready to attack. However…

“What the…” Flynn stopped, making Mathias stop as well, and crushed a small pile of dry leaves: no sound of leaves crushing or even the sound of his boot hitting the floor. He kicked a small rock towards a tree, but nothing: it was as if the whole world was muted, they could only hear their voices, their breaths and their heartbeats. 

“Alright, listen up” said Flynn. “I know I told you that I never faced a true Witch before, but I have the slight suspicion that these are signals of one around here”.

“Do you know how they look?” Mathias unsheathed his daggers and prepared a small smoke bomb, just in case,

“Not at all, but at least until we get out of here, let’s not trust in anyone we find”.

Shaw raised a brow, but he did not add anything. After all, he wasn’t local.

  
  


⚓

  
  
  


They agreed that the best plan of action was not follow the path directly, but neither go deep into the woods. Fallhaven wasn’t far: from his place Flynn could see the smoke of the houses disappearing into the gray clouds. Just a bit more and soon he could be in a warm inn, drowning into dark ale. Not even getting laid with a pretty local was an option: he would get drunk enough to be knocked out (perhaps this way he could block the scene of those corpses) and once he would get back on his feet, he would return to Boralus, would claim his prize and will definitely get drunk once more... 

Or perhaps he could pay the first part of his ship. “Middenwake”. He always loved that name for a ship: it fitted his personality pretty well.

They dead stopped when a strange sound echoed the place. It was like the growl of a big cat, like a tiger, but at the same time it was like the sound of a tree falling: roots tearing out, wood breaking and splintering, complaining for being teared out of his home in the earth. No idea what could make a sound like that, and it seemed that Shaw didn’t know as well. 

“Let’s hurry” said Shaw, and he barely finished the sentence when something appeared amongst the thickness of the bushes: it was a kind of… stag. At single sight it had the body of a huge stag, but in a closer sight (and oh they did have a close sight from that thing), said body seemed made of wood, thick roots, and creeper leaves. As a head it had the skull of an animal (stag, definitely stag) and the antlers were huge, surrounded by climbing plants, with strange thingys made of wood and feathers. Actually, they could have walked away from that thing and Flynn would have said that it was a strange religious construct dedicated to the Wicker Man, but the thing was  _ moving _ . Then, an idea came to Flynn and he slowly walked backwards and began to relax.

“Let us go” he whispered to Mathias, who already has his hand over the dagger’s handle.

“Why” Shaw was still tense, glaring the thing.

“It won’t hurt us. I think that’s a Drust”.

“Drust?”

“I’ll explain on the way”.

  
  


⚓

  
  
  


Fallhaven’s people were in a hurry.

Everyone seemed determined to finish their business before dusk, everyone hiding in their houses or either the only inn of the place. They arrived just when the marketplace was closing. 

“That way, Captain Fairwind, the Drust sounds like Druids” said Mathias, though he never looked at Flynn: he was checking out the place, even though he never moved his head around. Interesting, he’d give him that. 

Flynn shrugged. “Who said that they are not like brothers or cousins? I mean, since the elves were the first on walking this place, they could have teached the others. I swear I can imagine a rebel druid running away and teaching stuff to the mortals. Though, truth be told, I have no idea if the Drust are mortals”.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a legend, but… “ Flynn shrugged once more and he moved just in time to avoid colliding against a thick woman of grumpy face. “I don’t think that is just a legend. They say that amongst the mountains, not far from here, lives a bear, a HUGE bear made of ancient tree roots, fireflies and moss, that has been living here way before this place would bear its name Kul Tiras”.

“That bear you talk about…” Shaw stopped in front of a tall building, the biggest right second to the Inn. Flynn stopped as well and stared at the plaque on the door. “Town Hall”. “Friend or enemy?”

“Definitely not your friend” said Flynn with a shit-eater grin. “But to be fair, neither friend of us. They worry for the woods and themselves, that’s all. And they are enemies of anything that threatens those two things”. 

“So, if the Horde arrives with war machines and pretend to use the wood of the trees, would they attack them?”

Flynn tilted his head. Was that all in Alliance’s folks heads? Horde, war? After seeing proof that there were WITCHES around?

“Uh. I guess? Maybe”. 

“That’s enough. Maybe they are not our friends, but if we share enemies, there’s the chance to coexist pacifically”.

As Mathias walked towards the entrance of the Town Hall, Flynn wondered what would happen if they stayed as neutral elements. In some way, Shaw was right: two persons may be not friends, but if they shared enemies, why not join to defeat them? Besides… that’s why the Alliance came to Kul Tiras. Maybe Jaina was not interested in making amends with her mother, her former people. Maybe she came here seeking help for the Alliance. And if the Horde joined forces with the Zandalari, wouldn’t Kul Tiras be in danger anyways, even if they rejected the Alliance from the first moment?

Wouldn’t be better to join forces? 

“Captain, you coming?” Mathias was already half stairway.

“Coming!”

Anyway, it was not his matter. Kul Tiras could do whatever they wanted, the Alliance as well. As long he got the gold he wanted to get his ship, he did not care for the rest. 

  
  


⚓

  
  


“Ah, listed, Master Shaw, not that we do not want to help. Katherine is an old friend of mine, but right now we have a lot of troubles of our own”. 

Flynn and Mathias went straight and asked to talk with the Mayor, who immediately accepted to speak with them, though Flynn knew that he did that only to get rid of them as soon as possible: instead rejecting them and risking having them  _ stay _ and bothering several times, better listen their words, decline them and never heard of them again. That’s the Kul Tiran way. 

“We have people missing” said Cyril as he pulled his hands together over the desk. “I mean, it is normal losing them, specially since they try to move to Tiragarde, but this time they all go missing in such a strange way. Leaving things behind, not telling anything to anyone. Besides the strange things and symbols we have been finding around the town, the animals more aggressive than usual, even the ones that are naturally pacific are attacking people now! You do not need to believe me, Master Shaw, but Betsy attacked a villager few days ago.”

Flynn made a face. Mathias frowned, confused.

“Betsy is a pig” Flynn looked at him. “But she’s a prize pig. Contest pig. She’s quite huge, five men have to move her around. And she is usually the sweetest thing alive…”

“Was” said Cyril grimmly. 

Mathias slowly nod, but the expirate noticed that he did so, so the conversation could keep its flow. 

“Anyway” Cyril sighed. “I understand why you need help, but we need to focus in our own problems before trying to help someone else”.

“What if I send a Special Agent, would you be able to help them?”

Both Cyril and Flynn stared at him curiously.

“An… Agent?”

“A High-ranked Agent inside our organization” Mathias slowly folded his arms. “Someone who is trusted by our very King and all our Leaders, a seasoned soldier that has seen different battles of all kind and fears nothing”.

Cyril frowned and remained silent, looking eyes with Shaw, considering his offer. Flynn wondered if that was actually true or if he was saying that just to get help. Most likely it was true: Mathias seemed like someone powerful enough to command that kind of Agents. Still he would ask about that later. For now it seemed that the bait was working. 

“This…” the Mayor slowly leaned his chin over his knuckles, leaning his elbow over the desk. “Wouldn’t this start a political conflict? I wasn’t born yesterday, Master Shaw. I can see the colors you wear on your armor, and I know who they belong to. And also I know Kul Tiras’ side in all of this-”

“I can assure you there won’t be any kind of issue” Mathias’ voice did not change a bit, and Flynn was curious now, how many times Shaw had to do this? “Our Special Agents have certain… freedom. If they want to wear the colors of their allegiances or not, is up to them. Actually, they would be some kind of strangers worried for the good people of Fallhaven and wanting to help”. 

Cyril sighed and finally nodded.

“Alright. Alright. Send your agent. When they arrive, we shall tell them our situation and will give them the answers they may need”.

“You’ll have them by this weekend” Flynn made the gesture of getting up, but Mathias did not move. He looked at the spy but Shaw never turned. “Just only one question. When my partner and I were on our way here, we passed by a town… abandoned town. What happened there?”

The change in Cyril’s behaviour was obvious: from tired to one tense and closed.

“As I said, Master Shaw of the Alliance. We have many Kul Tiran problems”. 

  
  


⚓

  
  


They managed to convince the Flight Master to rent a couple of gryphons that could take them to Boralus- Tradewinds Marked, actually. It was late at night and Flynn really wanted to simply stay and get drunk, but the chilly wind, dark sky and creepy woods made him change his mind. 

When they arrived to Tiragarde, of course, there was a light rain, one of those that usually never bothered but managed to wet your clothes and hair anyway, and a thick, white fog around. They immediately parted ways, but before doing so, Mathias called Flynn once more. 

“Captain Fairwind, report here first hour in the morning” said as the time he threw a leather bag to Flynn. “Rest for now”.

“Are you preparing a surprise for me?” Flynn couldn’t help the lewd tone. But the surprise came when, after that, Mathias gave him a tiny, almost invisible, smile. 

“Maybe. But as for now, you will meet our special agents”.

Mathias tilted his head just a bit as goodbye and walked away, to the Wind’s Redemption. Flynn swallowed and felt his throat dry.

Maybe he could go to Anchors Away and get a drink. It sounded like a good plan, yes. as he walked to his room (well, his house, but honestly, it was too small to be called “house”) he remembered the events of the day: being attacked by a huge, rabid stag, founding those corpses, and being as close as he ever was before to an actual Witch. But more important: he traveled to Drustvar and returned alive and whole. Though losing those horses was such a regrettable lose. Hoping here that Taelia wouldn’t get mad at him. 

He reported first with Cyrus, who simply gave him a teddy hug that crushed his bones, and a heavy pat on his back, and even when he almost fell onward, Flynn grinned: the Old man was worried about him, and he felt a warm rush of fondness for him. 

Once he walked out he went straight stairs up, towards the Flight Master. Galeheart was there, and carefully he gave her a meaty treat. She thanked him by pecking a bit his coat (but never damaging it) and he turned to his left, now stairs down. The change of odor was noticeable now: while in Tradewinds Marked you could smell perfumes, spices and food. But down here in Dampwick Ward, you can smell dampness, fish and algae, so intense that though they were closer to the sea, the usual salty scent of the sea was hidden by the stink of piss and wet dog.

But this was home. His people. 

He couldn’t see Captain Donnel or his horse, and actually, neither the guards that usually kept control of the crossing between the Market and the Ward. Just when he was wondering if maybe one of those stupid Tidesages made another disturb he heard some commotion at his right: in one of the farthest and darkest corners, where a lantern was casually blew off, saw a couple of huge tugs cornering a boy (it definitely was a boy: too short and too thin). Well, if the incompetent guards were nowhere to be seen, it was up to Flynn to act. So he could act justice as he seemed right due the situation. And Flynn Fairwind would be damned by the Tides if he let that shit happen on his ward. 

  
  


“Come on, brat, give us all the gold” one if them was saying: he had a dagger on hand. It was obvious that said weapon wasn’t sharp, but due the size of this guy, he could easily gut you out with one single punch. “We the boat. We know you have it”.

“Hey”.

The tugs couldn’t see who punched them in that moment: Flynn used his momentum and landed a right hook just at his stomach pit, that sent him stumbling backwards. Before the other could react, the mercenary kicked him right on the balls, that had the tug kneeling down and cursing. 

Flynn turned to the boy, who was paralyzed and stunned for the scene, and knowing that he wouldn’t move by himself, grabbed his arm and started to run away, dragging him. The boy -instinctively- tried to refuse, but once he understood that he was actually a savior, he started to run as well. Behind them Flynn could hear the yells and curses, but he wasn’t worried: those fuckers would get drunk soon by their defeat, and surely in a couple hours they would forget his face.

_ (Thinking back, he should have thought better).  _

Fortunately his house was not so far away, but just in case he did not dare to get over there in that moment; instead he pushed the boy to an alley and he stood on the entrance, peeking just to make sure that they weren’t followed. They were not. Their gasps echoed between the damp stone walls but, soon the boy had managed to recover his breath. In few minutes they were fresh as salmons.

“A’ight, no danger out there” said Flynn as he finally turned to stare the young man: he was wearing leather clothes, a mix of gray and black, with a short, black cloak whose hood, by now, had covered half face. When they boy looked at him, with clear blue eyes and golden strands stuck on part of his forehead and cheeks, Flynn felt… something within his chest. Though the boy seemed young, almost a child, he could see in his gaze that he had already seen the horrors of war.

“Thank you” the boy took off his hood for a few seconds so he could gather his hair in a small ponytail. “I could have dealt with them, but that would have gotten me in troubles”.

Judging his accent, he wasn’t Kul Tirian. A Stormwind youngling, then. Sooner than later, Flynn knew his background: a young orphan, who had nothing to lose and no one to left behind, he joined the Stormwind Navy, and with all that Legion, the Horde and the burning of Teldrassil, surely he had seen way more in a couple months than any Boralus Guard in their whole life. And now he was here, wanting to explore a new place, but not wanting to get in troubles or his Captain (The Commander Halford, surely) would punish him. 

“I know you would have been fine by your own” Flynn folded his arms with a tiny smile. “You arrived in those fancy Alliance ships, didn’t you?” when the boy tensed, he chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, easy mate! Don’t worry for me, am not a tug anymore. Besides, the Alliance just paid me a pirate’s bounty for an expedition. I ask because you have a strange accent”.

The boy twisted his lips and nodded. “Yes, I am. I wanted to explore a bit before sleeping, since tomorrow I will not have time for myself, but I think… I might lost my path, and when I was trying to return to the Market those brutes cornered me”.

“You got pretty close. And aye, this is their favorite time of the day to terrorize gentle and working people” he huffed. “I can take you back safely, just need to talk to a couple friends and we will be on our way”. 

The boy smirked and Flynn bowed. “Captain Flynn Fairwind, at your orders” he said amused, and his grin just grew when the boy asked.

“Captain? Do you have a ship? What’s its name?”

“Alas, I’m afraid that my old ship was stolen when my crew mutinied against me, but! Not owning a ship doesn’t make me a non captain, isn’t?”

“Just like a crown doesn’t make the King”.

“That’s right!”

He signaled the boy to follow him, who put the hood in placed and followed his lead. 

First, Flynn went to his house. He moved to the side, inviting his new friend to enter, though he really did not own much: next the door there was a wooden table with two different chairs, and old and parched couch of two places right in front of the stove, and on the corner his bed, that actually it was a large piece of wood, a mattress kinda old with a couple of springs appearing here and there, some thick and heavy furs over it, and at the end of the bed a huge, old and steady chest, barely fitting between the bed and the wall. Besides the bed there was a window that could not be completely closed and had old rags on the opening, trying to keep the cold out. Behind the couch a a large fabric could be seen, covering the entrance to another room -most likely the washroom. 

There were some pints and empty bottles over the table, over the stove an old pewter teapot, and over the tiny nightstand there were several plates, and a pair of boots under the bed, identical to the ones Flynn was wearing right now.

“Sorry for the mess” said the mercenary as he kneeled besides the chest. “Usually I just come here to sleep it off”.

“Do not apologize, is your home, thank you for inviting me” the boy entered as he looked around, but he did not seem put off: he was really curious for everything, as seeing a new wonder. Flynn vaguely wondered when exactly do someone loses that ability. 

He grabbed 50 gold coins from Mathias’ pouch and left the rest at the bottom of the chest.

“Alright! Let’s go, it won’t take long”. 

Flynn closed with chains the door once they were out, though it did not make sense; in Dampwick Ward, if someone really wanted to steal from you, they would do so. Luckily the 90% of times there wasn’t much that worth the effort.

Couple buildings more ahead, Anchors Away stood, in its glorious near-ruin. He remembered his idea to get drunk before sleeping but if he would take the boy back to the Market, he couldn’t afford that. Besides he needed to see fancypants Mathias Shaw at first hour in the morning. Even so, he owed the Capt’n monet, and better pay him if he wanted to find his head still attached to his body.

He lead the boy there, and just when he was about to step inside the boy pulled back and dragged Flynn with him: half second later a chair flew out by the door, missing Flynn’s head for a couple inches. He laughed and gave a friendly pat to the boy on his back.

“Nice moves, kid” he grinned and walked inside once more. 

It was a dark, tight place, stinking to sweat, alcohol and dampness, but overall everything was clean. There was a group on a corner, surrounding two drunkards who were drinking some beer pints as fast as they could while the others passed money between each other. The rest were people too drunk to do anything else or just sleeping over or under tables. A huge man could be seen behind the counter, wearing an old coat that once was fine and decent but now was age-worn and stitched and patched several times over. Over his head rested a tricorn hat. The man was cleaning some wooden pints. 

“Yo, Capt’n!” called Flynn.

“Fairwind, I will not give you another bottle if you don’t pay me first” said the man without looking up from his work.

“Ouch, Capt’n! You hurt me! And you give a bad impression of myself to my new friend here!”

The man, definitely an old sea veteran (but no doubt, a veteran -not- because he belonged to the Kultirian Navy) raised his head, fixing his gaze on the boy, and looked at Flynn again.

“And he…?”

“He’s new around here. If you see him walking by, be nice and offer him a pin of The Anchor, aye?”

  
  


The boy shook his head as a greeting, and the man did the same, both being suspicious of the other. Flynn knew they would get along.

“Whatever Cap, must take the boy to the Market but…”

From his coat he dragged ten gold coins and put them over the counter. While the boy seemed curious, the Capt’n’s face darkened.

“You know very well that I do not have change for-”

“Did not ask for it”.

“Ten coins. Even if I keep the rest, you owe me as much five-”

“Take it as a future investment” Flynn gave him a bright grin. The Innkeeper did not seem impressed. “You and I know that it won’t be the last time that I arrive here made a mess, bleeding, or hurt by an arrow and urgently needing a cold pint of dark beer”.

The man rolled his eyes and saved the ten coins. Flynn pulled away and patted the boy on his back.

“Alright, we will leave! The tides are high, the wind blowing, we wouldn’t want the sirens to catch us!”

“Only one of them will make you settle down” said the man almost with fondness. 

“ME?!” Flynn signaled the boy to follow, as he retreated to the exit walking backwards. “Settle down? And leaving all those pretty boys and girls without me? Capt’n, that’s cruel from you”. 

When they left the place, the boy seemed amused. 

“I suppose that you are well known around here” he said with a smirk, to what Flynn shrugged trying to look nonchalant.

“Ah, you know the business. You’re a hero for your people, a monster for the rest”.

“Your people?”

With a gesture, Flynn signaled around them: thin dogs sleeping everywhere, cats chasing rats doubling their sizes, fish remains scattered around in piles and giving worse smell to the already stinking pools of stagnant water around the place. Homeless asking for a copper or in groups of up ten people trying to share heat.

“Yeah. Us, the wretched ones. The part that no one tells you about when you visit Boralus”.

They stopped in front of a place called ‘Quimby’s Chowder’. It smelled strange, a mix of food and fish. Flynn asked the boy to wait outside and, of course, the boy entered first. Of course.

Actually, there was not much “inside”. It was like a big outdoors kitchen: a huge stove, a big counter separating the kitchen from everything else, and a large line of homeless people, all of them with bowls or objects that could be used as bowls like tins, jars and even one of them had a boot. Flynn noticed the boy’s confusion and smiled. 

“Community dining room, though it doesn’t has much of “room”, right? Well, not so “community”. I’d wager that the Proudmoore do not have the slightest idea that this exists”. 

“Everyone comes down to eat here…” asked the boy, though it was clear on his face that he already knew the answer. Something evil in Flynn made him answer anyway, to “twist the dagger of guilt” in the boy’s gut. It wasn’t his fault to be born in a fancy city like Stormwind, but even so…

“Not everyone. Only all those that can’t afford a place, or can’t get a job, or prefer to rot here rather than swear loyalty to the Ashvane. That said… all those in Boralus who aren’t nobles or can’t work for them. Don’t think that Stormwind has a place like this, does it?”

“No… not that I have seen” said the boy.

“I’m not surprised. Usually the nobles and the high society are too busy with their own matters to worry about all this”.

“But if the Proudmoore do not invest in this” the wretched frowned at his new friend as they walked by, but Flynn made a face. At that, they parted and left way to the counter. “Then, who?”

“The ones of us that are a bit more lucky”. 

Flynn leaned on the counter. A young girl, wearing clothes so worn-out that were practically just rags stitched together, of pale skin and very, very skinny and was removing a pot, did not turn to look at them. 

“Bring your bowls and get in the line, this won’t take long”. 

“Oh thank you Amalia, dear, but I already had dinner”.

The girl, Amalia, finally turned: both her cheeks and eyes seemed sunken, and her hair was too thin and escase for someone so young, but as soon she smiled to Flynn, she rejuvenated 10 years.

“Flynn! It’s been so long since the last time we talked”.

“I know, I know… I just have been busy”. 

“Getting in troubles you mean. The rumours say that you have been going on and out from that pretty Alliance’s ship”.

Amalia turned around to spit and then returned to remove the pot: it looked like broth. Hard to see the ingredients when the whole… “soup” looked like mud and rocks. 

“Careful, Flynn” she said. “No one knows what they are planning with all this matter of the Horde and their war, but surely nothing good”.

“Don’t worry for me, Amalia” Flynn’s voice was soft and sweet and he pulled some gold coins and left them over the counter. The girl’s eyes widened and he made a face. “No, don’t say anything, ya’all need this way more than I”. 

“But-But Flynn, this is too much, way more than other-”

“And there are more” he pulled away and fixed his coat. “Keep them safe. Winter is coming and it won’t be nice”. 

Amalia wiped away her tears with a rag either too old or too dirty, and quickly dropped the coins in a small leather pouch she took out from her dress cleavage, and immediately put it back there.

“Last winter-”

“I know” Flynn’s smile turned a bit sad and he hold one of the bony hands of Amalia. “Among them Granny Parvati. I loved that woman. No one makes mud cakes like hers anymore”.

She smirked and squeezed his hand.

“You’re an angel, Flynn Fairwind”.

“I prefer “local hero”. That’s more impressing” he winked at her, and she laughed, and she seemed beautiful doing so. Then they parted.

They walked away, with all the others saying fond goodbyes. The boy was strangely quiet, looking at the floor, almost looking like a scolded dog. Flynn felt bad for him so he did pat his shoulder trying to cheer him up.

“Don’t worry mate, they are all old sea dogs. We know how to survive in the bad times and the worst times. 

“Even so… they make me thing in all the exiled from Teldrassil, and the twice exiled Gilneans. They do have a haven in Stormwind, but…”

“Hey, I mean it” Flynn tried to give him a bright smile. “That’s not something that you can personally handle, but kings and nobles and that.” The boy gazed at Flynn with a strange face, but the mercenary dismissed it as fatigue. “Come on, I’ll even take you to Cap’n Byron. He cooks the best Sailor Pie in all Kul Tiras”. 

After several minutes walking, they reached the stairs that took them to the Commercial Zone of the Tradewind Market. Luckily Cap’n Byron was still there, packing a very fine and juicy pieces of steak. 

“I know this place!” said the boy out of the blue. “We’re near the port”.

“Aye! And right on time for a good piece of sausage” said Flynn, though he said so almost yelling, even though the boy was right besides him- “OH! Look, what a coincidence. The Cap’n has ready such good piece of sausages!”

“Your old dog sniffer is sharp as always, Fairwind”. Said the huge man, Byron, without looking up from the meat. “Ya always arrive when I’m on the best part”.

“But of course! Besides, I had to give the best impression of Boralus to my friend here” he hugged the boy, passing his arm by his shoulder, and it hit him right there: he never asked for the boy’s name.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Byron interrupted. 

“Did you arrive on the Alliance’s ships?” he only then stopped to look the younger before returning to his work. “I think I saw you, you were wearing that pretty armor…”

“Y-Yes but as I suppose you can guess, I had to take it off…”

“Yes, yes. Nothing against you or your people, as long you don’t cause any trouble”.

Suddenly Byron turned around and threw them two heavy packages wrapped in spring rope and wax paper. Flynn knew it before smell them or feel the warm of them: pig tanned sausages.

“Oh Byron! You do know how to get into a man’s heart!” said Flynn dramatically, causing the elder to roll his eyes.

“Come on, out of my sight before I take it all back” Byron stopped when the younger offered a couple coins and he shook his head. “No, I don’t charge for it. Food is for everyone, the fire comes from the Nature and the Mother of Tides give us water”:

“B-But”

“Come here boy, you won’t win” Flynn dragged the boy to his side. “Alright, see ya around Byron, I’ll escort my friend to his ship. Be good with him if you see him around, yes?”

Byron huffed and returned to his work while Flynn walked away, 

He was surprised to see the Tidesage’s Sanctuary already transformed in a portal room, but he didn’t dare to peek inside at the sight of four heavily armored soldiers, in shining golden and blue armors, warding the entrance. They seemed to wait for something. 

The boy avoided the soldiers, and Flynn understood that most likely they belonged to his crew, so he made his best to hide the boy with his body and hurried to get out of there as soon as possible. The boy seemed thankful, and then he remembered Byron’s words. “Pretty armor”. Perhaps this boy belonged to the… What was the name? 7th Legion, they said? Yeah, the personal army of the King. 

Soon the blue and golden sails of the Wind’s Redemption appeared, slowly dancing with the cold, salty sea breeze. Flynn took a long breath and turned to stare at his friend.

“Well, we are here- I guess that the other Alliance’s ships are nearby, right?”

“Yes, they are. Thank you so much” the boy grinned. “You have helped me a lot. I promise that I will return the favor”.

“Mnnnnah , don’t do it, boy. Not good idea owing me favors”.

The boy smiled. He bowed his head as a goodbye and turned around after saying his low “goodnight”. Flynn mirrored the gesture, and turned around as well, deciding that it was a good idea to spend the night in Taelia’s place. And then he remembered that he forgot, again, to ask the boy’s name. Well, he’d ask later. After all, he had to come here tomorrow and talk with Mathias.

For some reason he felt nervous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We go down like men, here.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it is going a bit slow but, this is not a love story.


End file.
